


Hetalaia One Shots and Drabbles

by AgentSparrow



Category: Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia - fandoms, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Some angst, Suggested Smut, no actually sex, one shots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:38:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 20,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7698592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentSparrow/pseuds/AgentSparrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a compilation of my Hetalia one shots and drabbles. For those of you that bookmarked or followed any Hetalia stories of mine, nothing has really been deleted or even edited, just organized into a single location. </p><p>Thank you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Going to be Strong

**Author's Note:**

> Tagged for: 
> 
> Divorce,   
> Getting Back Together,   
> Suggested Smut,   
> no actual smut,   
> Angst,   
> Implied/Referenced Self-Harm,   
> I Love You,   
> france totally isn't about to beg,   
> Author Is Sleep Deprived,   
> author is a cockblock

This was so stupid. This was so stupid, even Gilbert had given him a sad look. 

Everyone had been giving him sad looks lately. 

Francis Bonnefoy was sad and tired of limping around like a kicked dog. If he was going to go down, he was going to go down kicking and screaming – not begging, he wasn’t that low, not yet. But he wasn’t going to just give up on – on – 

Was there even a word for unadultered joy? Because he’d had it, once. Sometimes there was fighting, sure. Sometimes the screaming fits had left him wanting to end everything immediately.

But if France knew about love, it was that it was worth it. Sometimes it hurt, sometimes it made him want to gouge his heart out but – it was worth. 

He just really hoped that Arthur wouldn’t punch him this time. Walking around with a huge black eye didn’t help with his feelings of defeat and regret. 

Francis decided that letting himself into Arthur’s house was not a good plan at this point. Last time it had only earned him a string of curses and flying fists. 

He wanted it end joyfully this time. 

Francis needed this happily ever after. Needed. 

So he knocked. 

“Come in!” His ex lover’s heavily accented voice rang from somewhere in the house, probably the kitchen. 

Francis carefully opened the door. Had he been expecting someone else? Mathew maybe? 

Or –another man? 

God forbid. 

He slipped off his shoes. Years of nagging about that habit seemed to finally be kicking in. 

Too little too late. 

“Make sure you take off your shoes.” 

Damn. Now he was going to cry. 

Francis sniffed and furiously rubbed his eyes. This was not going to go down like this. He’d given himself so many pep talks! This wasn’t going to turn into begging and tears! He was strong….

He walked to the kitchen door and hovered uncomfortably in the doorway. 

Arthur was same as ever, hunched rather clumsily over a pot of something that appeared to be smoking. 

“Well are you going to – “ Arthur turned, and stopped. A small, slightly scared sounding noise escaped hid throat. “Ah - “ he cleared his throat. 

“Hello Francis.” 

“Bonjour Arthur.”Francis’s voice cracked. This was so hard. So hard. 

“Do you need anything?”England asked carefully. 

Had they told him? Francis had thought it was a secret! Only a few people knew about it! Who told him? No, don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t answer truthfully either, it would be embarrassing to tell Arthur he needed him. 

Shameful, even. 

“No. I just – wanted to see you.” 

“Oh.” England seemed disappointed. Francis tried not to read into it too much. 

Francis took a step forward, soon he was striding across the kitchen floor. 

What he wanted was his precious England in his arms. 

What he got was the aching familiarity of his warmth with none of the ease, the well remembered smell of burning food without the laughter and happiness. 

“Are you sure you don’t need anything?” England asked, looking him up and down worriedly. 

Damn. He so knew. Who could have possibly told him?

“I am sure.”Francis whispered, trying not to stare longingly. 

Arthur seemed stymied for a response. 

“Are you happy?”Francis asked. 

“Am I – well I – “Arthur bit his lip, thinking. “I have Mathew and Alfred and my baking – “ he moved the pot off the stove without looking at it. 

“I’ve got plenty of things to do – “

“Are you happy?” Francis put his hands in his pockets. While he tried to relax, the tension in his shoulders betrayed how anxious he was for   
Arthur’s real answer. 

“I – “ Arthur took a deep breath. “No… Are you?”

“No.” Francis answered honestly, for once. “No, I’m not.”

Arthur crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep breath. “I’m – I’m sorry that I was so harsh with you.”

Francis blinked. “You – wait – “ he attempted to process the conversation that Arthur seemed to be trying to start. 

He took another deep breath. “I kind of deserved your scorn, I drank and got into trouble instead of supporting you and the kids.” Francis winced at that thought. He’d thought for the longest time that the only person he’d hurt was himself. 

It was Arthur’s turn to wince. “But I should have asked for your help – I should have tried to help when you started drinking instead of attacking you – “

Francis cut off Arthur’s apology with a rough kiss. He wrapped his arms around Arthur’s waist and held on tight, afraid he would push away.   
Arthur surprised Francis by only pulling his mouth away. 

“I – Can – can I – “ Francis stuttered. 

Arthur decided too that the best way to shut a person up was to kiss them. He took his distraction a little more gently though, caressing Francis’s cheek and jaw. 

Francis practically moaned with longing for the love that used to drive him. 

Arthur paused to breath, slightly flushed. “Francis – “

Francis whimpered, and sank to his knees, nearly knocking Arthur over. “P-please don’t send me away.” 

Damnit he was begging. Where had his backbone gone? Where had his resolve and will of iron disappeared to? How had this skinny, hot little man bewitched him so? 

“I’m not going to send you away – “ Arthur knelt down, and gently grabbed Francis’s chin. “And I’m not doing this because I heard about what   
happened either. This isn’t pity, so don’t ask.”

Francis’s eyes watered, he just couldn’t help it. He was a man of emotion, and goddamn god for making him like this! “I – I – “ 

“I love you too.” Arthur whispered, pressing a delicate kiss to his forehead. 

Francis sniffed. “Are we going to marriage therapy now then?”

“Probably?”

“Was Mathew the one to tell you?”

“Yes.” 

“Damn him.” 

Arthur gently patted his cheek. “I would have found out eventually, everybody knows about it.”

Francis shuddered. “Everybody?” he squeaked. Was he really that weak? That obvious? 

“Everybody.” Arthur gently hugged him. “I wish – I wish I could have been there to help you.”

Francis hoped Arthur knew that he had done it because of him. He hoped that he knew, because he was too ashamed to say it. 

“You always were one for dramatic statements.” Arthur sighed, gently grabbing Francis’s arms. 

Francis watched in horrified fascination as Arthur’s hands slid down his arms to his wrists. He nearly whimpered as his delicate fingers brushed the bandages hidden under a large jacket. 

“I – I’m sorry.” He whispered, completely ashamed. 

“No.” Arthur kissed the top of his head. “Never.” 

Francis nodded slightly. “Can – May I stay here the night?” 

Arthur nodded. “I’ve missed you… Besides, you’re pretty handsome.”

Francis looked up suddenly, nearly clipping Arthur’s chin. “Did you just call me hot?”

“I didn’t use that word – “

“Good God, you’re flirting with me!”

Arthur blushed a little. “What if I am?”

Francis chuckled, all thoughts of death gone. “I think you’re hot too – I’d g as far as to say you’re sexy.”

“If you think you can get in my pants this fast, you’re dead wrong.” Arthur crossed his arms and his legs. 

Francis smirked. “Riiiiiight. Just you wait.” 

 

~~~~~~~~~*~~~~~~~~~

 

They talked for hours. Both of them cried at least three times, though none of them would admit it the next day. Francis had his scars given ‘mama’s kisses’ as Alfred used to say. Arthur had his face and neck given ‘sexy kisses’ as Francis himself used to and still calls them. Unfortunately for Francis, Arthur pushed him off with a breathy moan, denying how turned on he was and how hot Francis was and just denying everything. 

Finally, Arthur yawned, a signal to Francis that it was time to herd things upstairs. 

He gently grabbed Arthur’s arm and steered him to bed. 

“Francis – “Arthur yawned again. “Francis what are you doing – “ 

Francis answered with a gentle kiss. 

“Oh. I see.” Sleepy Arthur seemed to take the kiss as an adequate explanation. 

Francis kissed him again, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulled him close. 

“I – ah – “Arthur splayed his hands over Francis’s chest, his smile slightly lopsided. “What I said earlier about getting into my pants – “

Francis grinned, pushing him back onto the bed. “Yes?”

“I take it back?”Arthur squeaked. “I mean – “

Francis cut off his embarrassed rambling with a hungry kiss. Arthur wrapped his arms around his shoulders. 

They were all grasping arms and greedy hands. Anxious, whimpering moans escaped Arthur’s throat as Francis bit and kissed his way down his neck. 

Francis grinned, taking a deep breath. “I missed those noises you make.”

Arthur took a shuddery breath. “Yes, well.” He looked around, obviously biting back something he wanted to say. 

“Yes?” Francis breathed, gently tracing circles on Arthur’s exposed collar bone. 

Arthur whimpered again, clenching his fists. “I – I missed this too - “ 

Francis took that as an invitation to unbutton Arthur’s shirt and bless his yearning skin with kisses. 

Arthur moaned, grabbing Francis’s collar. Through some feat of mechanics the clumsy British man got Francis’s shirt off too. 

While France would not call this their most passionate session yet it was definitely one of the tenderest. His wild kisses soon died into little adoring touches that elicited more moans than he thought they would. Arthur hands explored Francis’s torso reverently, as if this was their last dance. 

“Is this alright?” Francis asked, trailing his fingers over the belt button of Arthur’s pants. 

“yes.” 

Again, this was not their hottest, wildest sex ever. 

But it was sweet slow, a little awkward at some points maybe. Francis couldn't find the bottle of lube and Arthur kept laughing because 'that tickled!' but - all in all - it was the most love either of them had gotten in a long time. 

Afterwords, they collapsed in a sweaty heap at the end of the bed (Neither of them could remember how they got there). 

"I love you." Francis whispered breathlessly. 

"I I love you too." Arthur shuddered, and pulled him closer. "Stay close to me, it's cold."

Francis laughed. "I love you after sex so much!"

Arthur blushed. "Well - you always were kind of a pervert." 

Francis chuckled, teasingly pinching Arthur's ass. "But it's so satisfying listening to the noises you make!" 

Arthur became dark red, and his face in the pillow. 

"I love you." Francis whispered apologetically, kissing the back of Arthur's neck.

"I love you too." Arthur mumbled into the pillow, still embarrassed. "I love you too."


	2. Hidden Moments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tagged for:
> 
>  
> 
> Germany (Hetalia)/North Italy (Hetalia),   
> GerIta,   
> Ludwig Beilschmidt X Feliciano Vargas
> 
> Characters: 
> 
> Ludwig Beilschmidt,   
> Feliciano Vargas,   
> Germany (Hetalia: Axis Powers),   
> North Italy (Hetalia: Axis Powers)
> 
> Additional Tags: 
> 
> Prayer,   
> holiness,   
> Hidden Moments,   
> Fluff,   
> cuteness,   
> Romantic Fluff,   
> Tooth-Rotting Fluff

Italy stared at his unmade bed, an uncomfortable feeling sinking into the pit of his stomach. He really wanted Germany. He really wanted that warm feeling. 

He really didn’t want to be needy.

What the hell. Germany probably thought he was needy already. 

Italy gleefully ran out of his room, and skidded down the hallway. He stopped six feet away from Ludwig’s door, suddenly slightly nervous. He straightened his tie, and tried to smooth down his crazed mop of auburn brown hair. 

One more adjustment of his shirt, and he proceeded to walk quietly to the open door.

He paused before he could see inside the doorway. Was Germany – Talking to himself?

Italy crept forward, peeking his head around the edge of the doorway. 

His brown eyes widened as he surveyed what Germany was doing. 

Ludwig was kneeling next to the edge of the bed, praying. His hands were folded, resting on the edge of the bedframe, head bowed just a little. 

“Lord, please help me with mein language. I try not to but – “Italy could see his entire upper body shudder. “It’s so hard! Fix me, please.” 

Italy edged closer, hovering in the doorway. He knew he wasn’t supposed to listen to something like this. He knew that this was private, sacred even. 

But he couldn’t help but listen as Ludwig bared his soul to God. It was just so – he couldn’t even find a word. 

“God, please help me have patience. I know Gilbert used to always say that I should never pray for patience, because I would always get something awful to deal with but – “Ludwig looked up at the ceiling, eyes half closed. “I need it. I am not patient with my Italy, or Japan. I know   
it’s how you want me to be but – “He laughed a little. “It’s hard. “

Italy swallowed a little. He had never thought it was a problem when Germany fussed at him. He must have a good reason to yell! He always had such good reasons for everything. It seemed though, that Ludwig didn’t like this way of behaving. 

“Oh Italy…”Ludwig made a small noise, and Italy couldn’t tell if it was happy or sad. “My little Italy.” 

Italy put his hand over his heart, vaguely curious as to the sudden pinch there. 

“God, I need – I’m not – I’m sorry…. I know your book says that homosexuality is evil but I –“Ludwig took a shuddering breath. “I need him. I can’t let him go. I know your love should be enough to fill me and keep me but – “ his voice cracked. “I want Feli, forever.”

Tears sprang to Italy’s eyes at the raw emotion in Ludwig’s voice. Was he – Did he – did he really need Italy that much? 

Ludwig curled forward resting his head on the edge of the bed. He clenched his fists in the bed sheets, creating paths of wrinkles in the perfectly made bed. “God, I don’t want to make an idol of myself but – maybe is possible since I am a country – that it is okay for me to be with Feli?” his whole body seemed to shudder with a small sob before he sat up. “I am sorry God that was putting me on a pedestal. I will not do that again.”

Italy’s eyes brimmed with tears. He tried to take a deep breath, not able to register what he had just witnessed. 

Germany stood up, and turned down the bed sheets with shaking hands. He took a deep breath, and carefully brushed his wrist over his eyes. 

That had been so – Italy hadn’t known that – he didn’t ever want to – He had never seen Germany cry like that before. He’d seen Germany cry, but that was in grief, or perhaps guilt – not – 

He didn’t even know how to explain what he was thinking.

Germany walked across his room, back still turned to Italy. He got out his pajamas, and got changed.

Normally, Italy would have given Ludwig a little privacy, or gotten pushy with his kisses but – in his mind’s eye, all he could see was Germany’s shaking shoulder’s, over and over and over. 

Germany turned to climb into bed when he was what he thought was a horror struck Italian in the doorway.

“Italy! What is wrong?”Ludwig jumped forward, and pulled the young man into his arms. He ran his hands up and down Feli’s sides, checking for   
injuries or wounds. 

“N-nothing.”

Germany cradled Feli’s face in his hands, gazing intently into his tear filled eyes. “What is wrong? Are you scared? Did something happen?”  
Italy took a shaky breath. “I – I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have listened.”

It took Germany a moment to understand what Italy was trying to say. “You – heard me praying?”

Italy nodded, clutching his boyfriend’s t-shirt and burying his face in his chest. “I am so sorry!” he said, voice muffled. “That was private and sacred and – I didn’t know I meant that much to me!”

“You mean the world to me.” Germany said softly, gently playing with Feli’s hair. “The whole world.”

“I – You’re not mad at me?”

“Nein. I – “Ludwig took a deep breath. “It is good that you know how I feel and – and what I’ve been praying about.” He laughed a little. “It’s not like my religion is private, if you want to know, you can.”

Italy pulled away a little, wiping his eyes. “Yeah but – “He smiled, slightly wobbly. “That was – that was sacred and holy and – I’m – I love you!” He hugged Ludwig again. 

“I love you too.” Ludwig whispered, resting his chin on the top of Italy’s head. 

Ludwig was – confused. He didn’t understand how – how could something as simple as an overheard prayer mean so much to Feli? Was it really – holy? 

Was it possible to find Holy things here on earth? Sacred things? 

“I love you…” Italy repeated, sighing deeply.

Ludwig gently rubbed his back, a small smile spreading over his face. 

Maybe it was possible to find something sacred. 

Maybe he had already found it.


	3. Stalker Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tagged for:
> 
>  
> 
> Germany (Hetalia)/North Italy (Hetalia),   
> GerIta
> 
> Characters: 
> 
> Hungary (Hetalia: Axis Powers),   
> Japan (Hetalia: Axis Powers)
> 
> Additional Tags: 
> 
> Stalking,   
> OTP Feels,   
> Why can't they just go out?,   
> Pictures,   
> Bonding over OTP,   
> I'm Bad At Tagging
> 
> Originally gifted to AgentCrane

Hungary sighed, and slumped at the table, head resting in her hands. She watched from her front porch as Germany carefully held open the door for Italy across the street. 

She sighed again. They just needed to get over each other and freaking go out already. Germany already, in some ways, treated Feliciano like a lover. Feliciano definitely doted physical affection upon the studious Ludwig. In consideration, Feli had always been a snuggly child, but not quite like this. 

Elizabeta watched as Ludwig followed Feli down the front walk of their house. 

She giggled as Feli stopped, and hopped three times backwards before grabbing Ludwig’s hand. 

Ludwig blushed a little, but didn’t pull his hand away. She saw him scan the street for people who might see them. 

She waved a little, laughing as his eyes narrowed at her. 

Elizabeta knew him well. She knew he was trying to tell her that this meant nothing, that it was just Feli being ridiculous. 

She knew he was trying to tell her to go away, ignore them. 

She knew all this, but she still waved, pretending to be oblivious. 

Ludwig glared at her one last time before the ever oblivious Feli dragged him out of her sight.

Elizabeta collapsed into a fit of giggles, resting her head on the table. She tried to stop, tried to hold in what must be an awful noise. Regardless of any efforts,   
laughter still bubbled out of her delicate throat. 

“Hungary Sama?” A soft, calm voice asked. 

Elizabeta looked up. She jumped a little when she saw Japan standing at the bottom of her front step, hands folded neatly into his pockets. 

She swallowed a gasp and stood up. “Hello Japan! How are you?”

“I am well. You?” 

“I am spectacular.” She grinned, spreading her arms and pointing across the street to Italy’s house. “Did you see those two just now?”

Japan grinned hesitantly, and held out his phone. “I have photographs.” 

Hungary chuckled. “May I see?” 

Japan grinned again, even wider. 

Elizabeta decided she liked it when he smiled. He always seemed so serious, especially after everything that had happened with the war. He needed to lighten up more. 

Japan opened up his phone, and showed her the first picture, a slightly mis-aimed pic of Feli, smiling happily backwards at Ludwig. 

Elizabeta giggled, motioning for Japan to sit down next to her. “Show me them all, Japan san! 

Japan seemed to brighten a little at the use of his country’s honorifics. He seated himself next to her, but not too close.   
The second picture was of their clasped hands. The third of Ludwig’s embarrassed grimace. 

“They need to go out already.” Japan sighed. “It is stressful.”

Elizabeta smiled. She hadn’t known Japan shipped them. This was unexpected news. Unexpected, but very happy news. 

“I know right?” She pointed to the last picture, where Ludwig finally loosened up with a small smile on his usually stern features. “They’re perfect for each other.” 

Japan nodded sagely. He sighed, and carefully slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I wish they would just come out.”

Hungary leaned her elbow on the table, staring in the general direction that Ludwig and Feli had walked. “Do you think they’re going out in private? I mean – Lud’s been living in his house for a while now.”

Japan shook his head sadly. “No. They are not. I would be able to tell.”

Hungary sighed. She felt bad for Germany. It had been so hard for him to pick himself up after the second World War. He had been staying as a prisoner in America’s house for a while, she knew. 

Elizabeta never knew exactly what happened in America’s house to Ludwig. 

She just knew she woke up one morning, and Italy was gone. She assumed that he had had a hand in getting Ludwig out of there, but she never asked.   
She just made sure to drop by occasionally, check in. Make sure Lud wasn’t thinking too much about Prussia, about the things that happened.   
Hungary understood that Feli on most days was more than enough to keep Ludwig distracted, but she also knew the toll it could take on a person, being strong all the time. Feli didn’t think of it as being strong. But that’s what it was. She made sure to let him have at least a few days a week to himself, to take care of himself. 

“We need to get them together.” She announced, standing up. “We are going to end this tension now and forever.”

Japan gave her a slightly confused look, but still followed her down the driveway. 

“Do we have a plan?” He asked. 

“Nope.”

“That is not a good plan.”

Hungary shrugged. “So?”

“Hungary Sama – “ 

She turned to him, and stopped walking for a moment. “You don’t have to be so formal with me.” She said softly. “You have my permission to call me – Hungary – Hungary chan?”

Japan smiled, and almost seemed to blush a little. “Alright Hungary Chan.” He bit his lip, trying to come to terms with what he felt was a term of endearment. He   
firmly instructed himself to calm down, she was just trying to be friendly and kind. “You may call me Japan Kun, if you wish.”

“Yay! Come on Japan Kun!”She resisted grabbing his arm, since she knew he hated being touched. “let’s go find them!” 

Japan and Hungary wandered around town, chit chatting and getting to know each other better for the next hour. Hungary tried hard not to let her motherly   
nature overstep his comfort zone, and Japan tried to loosen up a little more. 

Suddenly, Hungary stopped, grabbed Japan’s arm, and ducked behind a vendor selling sunglasses. 

“I’m sorry I touched you Japan but – “Hungary took a deep breath, hand over her chest. “I just saw them. And I- We’re going to have to be sneaky.” 

Japan nodded, straightening his narrow shoulders. “I am ready.” 

Hungary purchased two pairs if sunglasses and gave one to Japan. He took them with a sage look, and slid them on with an air worthy of a James Bond movie.   
The two troublemakers stepped out onto the street, and casually sat down on a park bench in front of the open café that Feli and Lud were seated at. 

They discreetly (As in not discreetly at all) peered over the edges of their ridiculous sunglasses at the couple. 

Feli was kicking his legs happily, munching on some sweet treat. He chattered onward, oblivious not only to his two stalkers, but also to the slow blush creeping up Ludwig’s face. 

Ludwig sat, perhaps even tenser than normal, an uneaten bagel on a plate in front of him. They watched as he took another sip from an almost empty glass of water. 

Feli leaned forward, and whatever it was that he said caused Ludwig to blush even more.

“We have to get closer.” Hungary said intensely. 

“First, pictures.” Japan snapped maybe fifteen pictures with the artistry of a professional stalker. He nodded at Eliabeta. “Let us go.” 

Hungary led the way up to the front of the resteraunt, and pulled one of the servers aside. “We need to sit close to those two – “ She pointed to Germany and Italy. 

“But not too close, they can’t see us.”

The server gave her a dry look. He sighed, and looked at the tables full of customers he had to deal with. “Come on lady, just wait your turn. I’ll seat you in a minute.” 

Hungary blinked. In that instant, she had come up with a plan. She quinted a little, trying to read the name on the servers tag. “Ahh, Harry, please?” 

Japan watched in slight horror as she simply smiled at the poor guy, and he melted. 

In no time flat, they were seated at a table that had them at the most beautiful angle a stalker could have asked for. 

Japan let himself stare at her in shock for only a moment more before pulling out his phone.

It was picture time. 

“Feli?” Ludwig’s choked voice brushed past their ears. 

“Yes, Luddy?” 

Hungary stifled a giggled. Luddy? No wonder Ludwig was blushing! 

“I – I - I want to ask you a question.” 

Japan and Hungary shared a look. Could this be - ? 

“Wh – what do you think of this resteraunt?”

Hungary and Japan slumped in defeat. 

Come on Ludwig! Hungary wanted to cheer. Be a man

“Yes, I do! Do you like it?”

Ludwig shrugged, taking a deep breath. “Yes, but that’s not what I really wanted to ask.”

Japan held his phone at the ready to capture the look on Feli’s face when he finally asked. 

“What is it Doitsu?” Feli acted oblivious to the tension, still kicking his feet freely. 

“What – what do you think of tomatoes?” Ludwig bit his lip, ducking his head.

Japan went ahead and snapped a few pictures, sighing sadly. “Hungary Chan, I do not think – “

She shushed him with a wave of her hand, watching Ludwig in rapt attention. “Look at his right hand.” She whispered. “Is that – a ring box?” 

Japan’s eyes widened. “I believe it is.” 

Hungary wiggled happily. 

Feli blinked. “I – I don’t love them as much as I love Romano, but I think they’re pretty looking!”He picked a crumb off his plate and flicked it onto the table. “Why?   
And aren’t you going to eat? You didn’t have breakfast! Luddy, you have to eat something today!”

Ludwig shook his head. “Wait, Feli. I have another question.”

Feli nodded eagerly. “Yes Love – Ludwig! I meant Ludwig! I meant Ludwig! Slip of the mouth! Ludwig sounds a lot like Love, you know?”

Japan and Hungary face palmed in unison. 

Germany blinked, shuddered a little, then pulled his hands out from underneath the table. 

He slowly opened the box, revealing a shiny, tomato shaped bauble ring. “Would you – are you – be meine Leibe?” 

Feli gasped. “Be – yours?” he asked, wanting to make sure he understood correctly. 

Hungary squealed a little as Japan quickly took many pictures. He had done it! He had done it! They were official!

Ludwig nodded, pulling the ring out of the box with shaking fingers. He tried to grab Feli’s hand and slip it on his finger, but his hands kept fumbling. 

Feli gently took Ludwig’s hand, and kissed his fingers.

Ludwig blushed. He stood up, grabbed Feli’s hand, and pulled him to his feet. “Will you be mine?” he asked softly, finally slipping the ring on his finger successfully. 

Feli nodded quickly, tears springing to his eyes. 

Ludwig picked Feli up, and kissed him gently, swinging him around happily. 

Hungary and Japan were the first to cheer. 

Germany gently set Feli down, smiling bigger than Hungary had seen him smile in a long time. 

“You did it Ludwig!” She cheered.

Ludwig and Feli jumped, seeing Japan and Hungary for the first time. 

“What?” Ludwig asked. 

“Um…” Hungary took off her sunglasses. “I guess we have some explaining to do…”


	4. Love Me Baby Please!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tagged for: 
> 
>  
> 
> Austria (Hetalia)/Prussia (Hetalia)
> 
> Characters: 
> 
> Austria - Character,   
> Prussia
> 
> Additional Tags: 
> 
> Piano,   
> kisses,   
> Teasing,   
> piano lessons,   
> Pay attention to me!

Prussia sighed, glancing down at his watch for the eightieth time. He stared at the door to Austria’s music room, and sighed again.  
It had been three hours. Three hours. Was that man ever going to stop playing the piano? How much music did he had stored up in that pretty little head of his? 

Prussia stood up, and marched towards the door. He was going to conquer. He was going to interrupt.

He was going to be a total pain in the ass. 

He opened the door quietly, and stared at his little musician. 

Austria was bent over the keys of his piano, deftly stroking the keys to produce an enchanting melody Prussia could never quite remember, regardless of the fact it was the most played song. 

Prussia loved how alive Austria looked at the piano. He loved he moved and breathed with the music. He loved the peaceful, joyous smile he had whenever he  
played. He loved the passionate but careful way he touched the keys. He secretly wished Austria would touch him like that, with such care and love. He also loved how, when Austria was done playing, he’d hang on to the last note for an eternity, letting the song ring an echo through everyone’s hearts until his usually rapturous audience couldn’t breathe. 

The one thing he didn’t love, however, was the sever lack of attention. 

Prussia slowly, quietly, walked up behind Austria, knowing full well that he would never notice him while he was playing. 

He waited until the song was over to glomp Austria, coming at him from behind and wrapping his arms around his neck gleefully. 

“Prussia!” Austria snapped, startled. “What are you doing?”

“I’m hugging you, what does it look like I’m doing?” Prussia grinned, and gently pinched Austria’s cheek. “You’ve been on the piano too long.”

Austria sighed a sigh of deep, deep impatience. “Well, I have to practice.”

“And you have! Now pay attention to me!” 

Austria rolled his eyes. “For all your big talk, you’re really quiet clingy.”

Prussia sat down on the bench next him, and wiggled a little, pretending to get himself situated. He grinned teasingly, and held his hands over the piano keys as if he was about to play a grand Concerto. 

Austria rolled his eyes, snorting a little. 

Prussia banged out three chords, purposefully mutilating the sounds to make him wince. 

And wince Austria did. “No! Not like that! Like this!” He grabbed Prussia’s hand and gently eased it into the correct position. “Play these notes.” He ordered,  
pointing to the keys. 

Prussia considered only for a moment being a bad student. He wanted to piss Austria off, but the possibility that he might get included in this Piano music making extravaganza excited him. He liked being included. He was also curious about Austria’s other one true love. 

“Now, play these.” Austria slowly poked out a simple folk song.

Prussia was entranced by his long, careful fingers. For whatever reason, the way he played made Prussia want to do it too, which was weird. Prussia wasn’t usually coerced easily into going along with things. It was kind of his job to be a total bitch. 

“Now you try.” Austria said, smiling. “You play what I just showed you, and I I’ll play the accompaniment, alright?”

Prussia nodded, eyebrows knit together in concentration. He clumsily tried to play the tune, but it just didn’t sound the same, no matter how hard he hit the keys.

“No, Prussia, no.” Austria couldn’t resist laughing. “Prussia, stop, stop for a second.”

Prussia gave the keys one last frustrated bang before pulling away. “What?”

Austria chuckled again. “You have the right order for the notes, but no rhythm. Two long beats, then one short one. Short like – “ Austria fumbled for a simple analogy. 

“Kisses on the cheek?” Prussia offered helpfully. 

Austria sighed. “Yeah, sure, kisses on the cheek.” 

Prussia made a hopeful face. Maybe if he did a good job, Austria would kiss him. 

He’d have to do the best job, so he could steal lots of kisses. 

“Alright. Let’s try that again.” Austria announced, coming back from his own little daydream about kisses. 

Prussia poked out the tune again, this time having correct rhythm, but hitting the wrong notes. 

“Prussia, Prussia, too fast.” Austria gently grabbed his arm and pulled his hand away. “This isn’t a race, okay?”

Prussia huffed in irritation. He was enjoying this, sure, but he wanted to get to the kisses part. “Alright. Fine.”

“Now, slowly, with me doing the accompaniment. Ready?”

Prussia nodded; an intense expression worthy of a vicious battle on his face. “Let’s do this.” 

They began to play again much slower. Prussia fumbled a few times, but he made it to the end of the song without completely crashing and burning.

“And hold till the end…” Austria whispered, gently tapping Prussia’s hand to keep it in place. 

When the sound had finally died, Prussia lifted his fingers and gave Austria a long look. “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?’

“Hold the note until the last echo is gone and every person in the audience is about to cry or laugh.”

Austria blinked. “What?’

“You hold that last note until it dies, then get this pleased little look on your face. Why?”

Austria blinked. “I – I like the way it sounds.”

Prussia nodded at him to go on.

Austria fumbled for a moment, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I – It makes me feel happy.” 

Prussia smirked, and leaned closer. “Well, I like that look.”

Austria blushed a little, and turned his head away. He was surprised that Prussia even paid attention to his music, considering he was always trying to get him away from the piano. It was – it was a very complimentary moment for him, to realize someone paid attention to the things he liked. 

“Do I get kisses now?” Prussia asked, interrupting Austria’s happy little moment. “Cause I want kisses.” 

Austria blinked, surprised. “Wh-what?” 

Prussia smirked, and kissed him gently. 

Austria blushed, pull away. He groped for something to say, stammering profusely. 

Prussia put his fingertips over his mouth, silencing him. He then grinned, and kissed him again, pushing him backwards onto the piano keys. 

“You can’t kiss me here! Listen to that awful sound you made!” Austria lifted himself off the keys delicately, and reverently shut the lid to the piano. 

“Hey, it’s my job to ruin everything.” Prussia smiled teasingly. “Now kiss me again.”


	5. You Did This on Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tagged for:
> 
>  
> 
> Spamano,   
> South Italy (Hetalia)/Spain (Hetalia),   
> Romano X Spain
> 
> Characters: 
> 
> Romano - Character,   
> Spain - Character,   
> South Italy
> 
> Additional Tags: 
> 
> staggering,   
> Drunken Kissing,   
> I'm Bad At Tagging,   
> Drinking,   
> I don't wike it!

“You did this on purpose…” Romano moaned. He slumped back in his seat and poked the empty shot glass sadly. “I don’t wike it.” 

Spain smirked, and twirled a paper margarita umbrella between his fingers. “Maybe.” He muttered, trying to not to chuckle. Romano was just so damn cute drunk. He probably should have had a little more self control with the amount of alcohol that Romano had drunk. That would have made tomorrow a hell of a lot easier. But still. Drunk Lovi. Was cute. 

“I – hic – Haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaate you.” Romano shoved that glass away from hi8mself and tried to stand up. 

Spain leapt to his feet, and caught him halfway to the ground. 

Romano went limp, and tried to curl up in his arms. “I want to go to beeeeeeeeeeeeed.” 

“Time to go home.” Spain announced, half dragging, half carrying a protecting Romano to the front door. He nodded his goodbye to the bar tender as they exited the building. 

“I hate you.” Romano muttered, trying to pull away from Spain and walk by himself. 

“No, baby, don’t do that.” he pulled him closer, kissing him on the forehead. 

“You missed.” Romano put his hands on his skinny hips, and pouted. 

“Well.” Spain pulled him in and kissed him slowly, careful not to push too hard lest he fall over. 

As Spain pulled away, Romano sighed, and ducked his head. That was - Romano decided he liked kisses, and was going to get as many of them as possible tonight. He liked those. 

Spain continued walking, draping one of Romano’s arms around his shoulder. “Come on Lovi, let’s get you home to bed.”

Initially thinking that Spain was talking about sex, Romano pulled away. Sure, he liked sex. He just had to put up a fight about it. He glared at Spain, and tried to   
cross his arms over his chest. “You’re a pushy bastard. Pushy.” 

Spain smiled, already knowing what drunken Romano was trying to do. “You know you love it.”

“I do actually. I like the way you make me feeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeel.” 

Spain blinked, surprised. Romano never said things like this. 

He was going to have to get him drunk more often. 

“I like it when you top me!” Romano whispered. He giggled manically, waving his arms everywhere. “I LOVE YOU SPAIN!” He yelled, pulling away and spinning in a circle. 

“Honey, it’s night time, you can’t yell.” Spain decided to make things easier on himself and pick Romano up bridal style.

“I CAN YELL IF I FUCKING WANT TO.” 

“No, Lovi, seriously, it’s night time, they’re sleeping.”

“WELL THEY CAN WAKE UP.”

Spain decided the most efficient way to shut him up would be kissing him. 

“Wow.” Romano murmured, effectively silenced. He ran his hands through Spain’s hair and over his chest. “Wow.”

Spain smiled triumphantly, and walked onward, determined to make it home before Romano started yelling again. 

“Spain?” Romano asked quietly, voice unusually soft and hesitant.

“What Lovi?” Spain kissed his nose. 

Romano buried his nose in Spain’s shoulder, curling up small. He couldn’t just tell him that, no matter how drunk he was. That would be admitting that Spain had dominated, came out strong, and won his heart forever. You couldn’t just tell someone that! Especially not when you were drunk!

“What is it baby?” Spain asked quietly, not a little bit worried. 

Romano shook his head vigorously. Nope. Nope. He couldn’t do it. 

“Lovi? Come on, what is it?” Spain asked. “Don’t make me get underhanded here.”

“Underhanded?” Romano squeaked. “What does that mean?” 

Spain grinned, and teasingly trailed a few kissed down Romano’s exposed neck. “That’s what I mean.” 

Romano suppressed a gasp, and tried to pull his shirt back up to cover the skin. That stupid dom and his stupid dom tendencies. Goddamnit. 

Spain kissed his neck again, somehow managing to still walk while he did this. 

Romano moaned breathily. “Fiiiiiiiiiine. I’ll tell you. But it’s because I like that, it’s because it was annoying and I want you to stop.” 

Spain chuckled. “Sure Romano. Sure.”

Romano glared at him. “I just wanted to tell you that I really like it when you say nice things to me. It’s nice, okay? Not that big of deal.”

“What particular nice things are we talking about?” Spain asked, determined to get as much out of drunken Romano as possible. 

Romano made a grumbling noise. “I like it when you say I did a good job, and I like the pet names, and I like it when you say I’m doing a good job, and I just like it.   
Can we talk about something else now?” 

Spain smiled to himself as he carried Romano through the front gate. This night would be well worth the hangover stricken angry little thing he’d have tomorrow.   
Well worth. 

“Do I get to sleep in your bed tonight?” Romano asked, voice squeaky again. 

“Oh, you get to more than just sleep in it.” Spain winked, sending Romano into an angry little blush. “You get to sleep with me in it.”


	6. I HATE You!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> England (Hetalia)/France (Hetalia),   
> FrUK - Relationship
> 
> Characters: 
> 
> France,   
> England,   
> Arthur Kirkland,   
> Francis Bonnefoy
> 
> Additional Tags: 
> 
> Hatred,   
> Fighting,   
> Insults,   
> Self Harm,   
> Angst with a Happy Ending,   
> Supresssed gay feels,   
> France needs a hug
> 
> Language: 
> 
> English

Work Text:

 

“I hate you and your small dick!” France yelled, throwing a book at England. 

“Yeah, well I bloody hate you and your perverted mind!” England ducked behind a chair, narrowly missing the projectile. 

“All you ever do is drink your goddamned tea all fricking day!” France said. Crossing his arms, he gave England an overly confident look, raising his chin in the air. 

“I bet your teeth are turning yellow and your liver is melting!” 

England narrowed his eyes. He clenched his fists, and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He was not going to let this fight go on any longer. He was going to walk out of this room, before he said something that he’d really regret. He was not going to let this infuriating man get to him anymore. He was going to walk out of the room like the cool, collected, British gentleman he was. 

“You have a despicably skinny ass.” France muttered, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He just wanted this fighting to end. He wanted it to end, yet, he was always the one  
re-starting it again every time? Why was that? Why did he keep setting himself up for failure? There was a reason he was alone. There was a reason he kept fighting this painful thing that was growing in his chest. It was like subconsciously, he couldn’t bear the thought of seeing himself get what he so wanted. 

England, for some strange reason, took strong offense at that statement. He stomped his foot, fuming. “Well – well – everyone knows that you raped Joan! You  
made her be with you! She didn’t want it! You sick, twisted human being!” 

France too half a step back, blinking. “Wh-what?”

“You heard what I said.” England whispered. “You heard what I said.” He bit his lip, taking a deep breath. He started the lie, he had to end it. He had to, no matter how pained the look on France’s face was. “You raped her.” 

France opened his mouth, groping for something to defend himself with. He had loved her. He had loved her with a passion that defied reality. He had no way of communicating how deep their love had been, no way of trying to say that what they had shared was not only consensual, but treasured. Their love had been sacred. 

“You dirty bastard.” France whispered, turning on his heel and storming out of the room. “I hate you!” 

He swept down the hallway, blue cloak trailing behind him. Hot anger boiled in his stomach, making him clench his fists. 

France entered a small sitting room, slamming the door shut viciously behind him. He paced angrily around the room four times before collapsing on a chair with a huff. 

His hands shook, but he had no release for the pent up anger. He was breathing hard, still fuming. 

“That Bastard.” He muttered, voice cracking. “That dirty bastard.” He buried his face in his hands, trembling. 

How dare he say that he had raped Joan? How dare he say that he was a man low enough to do such a despicable thing? How dare he accuse him of such a dishonorable, let alone that he committed the crime upon the one woman he would ever love? 

France punched a couch cushion viciously. He had loved her. She had loved him. He had tried to do everything within his power to protect her.

But that passionate, flaming wild heart he had fallen in love with couldn’t be caged. He tried to be there to keep her safe, protect her. He couldn’t count how many times he’d taken an arrow, a dagger, a sword for her. He’d take all that and more to get her back. He’d have done anything to save her, keep her safe. 

Some people were just destined to have their light snuffed out early, it seemed. 

France hugged himself, rocking back and forth slowly. If he had just been a little faster, a little stronger a little better, he might have been able to save her. He might have been able to stop her from being burned. 

Looking back at it now, the way she died seemed sadly ironic. Joan, the most beautiful woman in the world, lit by eternal fire of God himself that burned in her soul, was torched at the stake for her cause. 

She burned. 

God, he couldn’t think too hard about that. The few times that he did always ended in tears and self mutilation. He could not do that here. Not at England’s house.  
What if he heard him crying and thought him not only despicable but weak? France couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear it at all. 

Still, his vision blurred with tears and his hands shook with emotion. 

He just couldn’t do this anymore. 

 

Somewhere else in the house, England rage paced through a different room, hell bent on reliving his anger by stress drinking tea and wearing a trench in the floor. 

He shouldn’t have said that. He knew how France felt. He had seen the tears streaming down the man’s face when he heard that his beloved Joan had died. He had felt the hatred that radiated from his being. 

It was his fault that France was like this. He had been the country that got involved. He let his soldiers burn her. He hadn’t fully comprehended just how much  
France loved her when he gave them permission. If he had known, he would have had some mercy. 

But was done was done. The guilt was England’s, and as far as he was concerned, he was somehow supposed to fix what he had broken. 

He couldn’t resist moaning, and taking another gulp of his tea. 

He had to go apologize to France. Somehow, he had to mend what he had broken. 

It was all his fault. 

 

 

France was still curled on the couch when England stopped in front of the door. 

France was quite certain at that point that he was done with life. Having clawed gouges on his forearm with no relief in sight, he just wanted something to make it stop. Was he desperate enough to try ending it again? Maybe. It hadn’t worked very well last time though. Damn the fact that he was a country and kind of immortal. Damn that fact that nothing helped. Damn the empty space inside that threatened to suck out everything he ever dreamed of having. 

England opened the door slowly, a little afraid France was going to throw something heavier at him, like a bookend. 

Instead of launched bookends, he found a shaking, teary eyed France curled up on his side on the couch, staring glazedly in his general direction. 

“France?” He asked, almost certain that the man was dead. 

“What do you want?” France sat up, trying to drag his wrist over his eyes and pull down his shirtsleeves at the same time. 

“I- I – “ England was speechless at the sight of blood on France’s clothes. 

“Get out.” France muttered wretchedly, when every part of him wanted England to stay, comfort him, and tell him he was going to be okay.  
England strode across the room, and knelt down in front of France. He gently grabbed his arm, and tried to pull it out where he could see it. 

France crossed his arms over his chest, ducking his head. “I’m fine. Just let me leave.”

“Let me see.” England ordered, finally pulling his arm down. He carefully lifted the sleeve up, insistent upon seeing even when he hissed in pain. 

“France, you’re not fine.” England said slowly, surveying the scored skin. “This isn’t fine.”

France yanked his arm away and roughly pulled his shirtsleeve back down, not even caring about the blood showing anymore. “Just let me leave.”

“Not until you tell me you’ll be fine when you go home.”

“I just want to go home!” France said, louder.

“No.”

“Let me leave!” France tried to stand up, but England pushed him back down on the couch. 

“No. Not until you can give me your word you won’t start doing this – “he gestured to France’s arm. “ – as soon as you leave.”

“I just want her back.” France moaned, tangling his fingers in his hair and pulling. 

England ignored the sharp stab of guilt that was slicing through his chest. “We both know that won’t happen.”

“I know. I know.” Silent tears began to fall down France’s face. “I just want it to stop.”

“I know.” England sat down next to him, and sighed deeply. He didn’t know what the hell to do. He didn’t know how he was supposed to help someone he knew was self harming. He felt kind of like he was drowning. Everything was so confusing, and he didn’t know how to help. 

“I’m sorry I said those things about Joan.” England whispered. “I know – I know you loved her a lot.”

France laughed self deprecatingly. “No kidding.” 

England gave France a few moments to collect himself before he continued. “I’m sorry I’ve instigated so many fights over the years. If I had known – “ 

“This doesn’t change anything.” France said, twitching his bleeding arm. “Anything at all.”

England bit his lip. Oh, the things that he wanted to say but never could. Not now, not after everything he’d done to hurt him. That would just be – it would be too much to ask. 

“I am tired of being alone.” France announced, clenching his fists. “I am really tired of being alone.” His voice cracked again at the end as he choked back a small sobbing noise. 

England viciously killed the small hopeful feeling in his chest. Now would not be the appropriate time. Not now, probably not ever. For Christ’s sake, the man just cut himself! He wouldn’t be in enough shape to handle something like that anyway!

France turned his head slightly towards England. It would be so easy. So incredibly easy. And it would be totally worth it, if he could just feel wanted for a moment. 

France put a hand on England’s shoulder. As he turned to look at him in surprise, France planted a small, almost innocent kiss on England’s lips. 

“Y-you – “ England stuttered, blushing as he pulled away. “I – I – “

France’s face crumpled a little bit, but he didn’t cry. That was it. That was his moment. That was all he got. 

France stood up, and walked towards the door. Just a few more steps. He could make it a few more steps. Tomorrow would probably be easier. Hopefully, it would be easier. Maybe, it would be easier. 

It took England a few moments to register what had just happened. He clenched his fists, stood up, and squared his shoulders.

“France.” He said, voice suddenly a little high pitched and scared. “France wait.”

France stopped, and looked down at the floor. He aggressively pounded down any possible hopes that were trying to float through his head. There was no hope. Life was hopeless. That was it. 

“You have to kiss me again.” England announced. “Yours was too fast.” 

France turned slowly, looking at England with the most pained hopeful expression he had ever seen.  
Within the blink of an eye, France had catapulted himself into England’s arms. 

England kissed him slowly, savoring every passionate second. 

When they finally pulled apart, France literally went weak at the knees, and fell to the ground. 

“France?” England knelt down next to him, concern eeking from every pore. “France, what is it?”

“Was that – Are we – did you mean that?” 

“I did.” England pulled France into his arms and held him tight as he cried. “And we’re going to help you fix this” He said, gesturing at France’s arm. 

France shrugged, trying to dry his eyes. “I deserved that.”

“No, you didn’t. You’ll never deserve something like this.” England kissed his cheek. “Now, we need to get you bandaged up. I probably should have done that first, actually.”

France chuckled a little, brain still on overdrive from the kisses. “No. I liked the order of that.” He grinned. “I liked that.” 

England blushed a little. “Well.” He tried to come up with something encouraging to say. “Now you don’t ever have to be lonely again.” 

France nodded, trying to breathe deeply. It was over. It was finally over. 

“I kind of thought for a while there you hated me.” France said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. “You know, a while being at least a hundred years. 

“I did too.” 

“This is going to sound really sexual, but can I sleep here tonight?”France asked, looking up at him with pleading eyes. 

England nodded exuberantly. “Of course! I – I kind of wanted you to stay.” 

France grinned, hugging England tightly. “We’re really gay.” He chuckled, burying his nose deep into England’s shoulder. He took a deep breath. He wasn’t alone.  
He wasn’t alone. 

England blushed. “We are.”

“Is that okay?’ France asked, pulling back and looking him in the eye. “You’re always so uptight about these things. Are you sure it’s okay?”

England smiled softly. “If it wasn’t okay, I wouldn’t have asked you to kiss me again.” 

France nodded, hugging him again. 

“I’ve gotcha.” England whispered, gently rubbing his back. I’ve gotcha.”


	7. I want you to like me not wife please!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SuFin - Relationship,   
> Sweden x Finland,   
> Finland (Hetalia)/Sweden (Hetalia)
> 
> Characters: 
> 
> Sweden,   
> Finland - Character,   
> Berwald Oxenstierna
> 
> Additional Tags: 
> 
> Romance,   
> Winter,   
> Christmas Time,   
> Awkward Romance,   
> Santa Claus - Freeform,   
> Naughty and nice list
> 
> Language: 
> 
> English

Tino stared blankly at the list of names, vaguely curious as to why the words were blurring. He blinked three times, crossed his eyes, and shook his head. Okay. He could do this. There were only a few pages left, and he had to get them done tonight. He could do this. 

He rubbed his eyes furiously, and bent down over the worn sheet of paper. All he had left were some of the countries. Then he could go to bed. 

France. 

Oh boy. France was a hard one. Was he good? Was he bad? Did bad pick up lines used teasingly count as being bad? Not bad like naughty like sex, but bad like naughty like it’s time-out for you. 

Oy. This was weird to think about so late at night. He pulled up the sleeve of his pale blue green coat and stared at his watch. It took a few moments of staring for his brain to connect the dots, and tell him that it was almost eleven. 

Maybe he really should go home. 

But he had to finish. 

Tino rubbed his eyes one more time before he picked up his pencil, and hurriedly scrawled on his sheet of paper. 

Berwald resisted sighing as he came in the door. There was Finland, working his rear off again. He thought he was making everybody happy, but really, everybody just worried about him. Berwald most of all.

“Wife. It’s time for bed.” Berwald said quietly, thick accent softer than usual. 

Tino yawned. “But I’m not done yet.” 

“You need to go home now.” 

“But it’s not done yet. I have four more pages.” Tino slouched lower in his seat, staring pathetically at the remainder of the stack of paper on his desk. 

“You can finish tomorrow.” Berwald promised, grabbing the tiny country under the shoulders and lifting him to his feet. 

Tino yawned again. “I wake up at five and still can’t get it done.” He chuckled sadly. “Wow.”

“Do not be depressed.” Berwald patted him on the shoulder. “You can finish tomorrow. No one is angry at you.”

Even if someone was mad at Tino, Berwald would just squish them. Tino was a perfect little wife, and everything he did was adorable and loveable. 

Tino shivered as they walked out of the office, and into the cold winter air. It was cold. Colder than he had expected. 

“Are you cold?’ Berwald asked, knowing full well that Finland was small, and had a hard time keeping himself warm. He would have to make sure and get him a   
very warm coat for an early Christmas present. 

“No.” Tino lied. “I’m not.”

Berwald sighed, taking off his very long, very thick, dark blue coat. “Wear this.” He said, draping the jacket around Tino’s shoulders. 

“No! Now you’re going to be cold!” Tino tried to pull the coat off his back, but Berwald kept a firm grip on his shoulders, making it impossible to remove the coat. 

“Berwald!” Tino whined, sticking his arms gratefully into the sleeves. “We look like we’re dating.”

“You’re my wife.” Berwald answered simply. It wasn’t complicated. What did it matter if they looked like they were dating when everyone knew that Tino was his wife? 

Tino closed his eyes tight, ignoring the bright blush that crept over his cheeks. Denmark had once asked him if he wasn’t going out with Berwald because he was afraid of him. That definitely wasn’t it. 

That wasn’t it at all. 

“I – you know we’re not actually married, right?” 

Berwald shrugged, sticking his hands into his pockets. He stared off into the chilly darkness, seemingly unaware that Tino was trying to talk to him.

“Cause like, I know you know what wife means but sometimes you say wife and I think not wife.” Tino babbled, not realizing he was messing up the order of his words. “Not it’s bad, just weird. How like you can say that and blush not?”

Berwald wanted to hold his hand. He just didn’t know how to say it. 

“I want you to like me not wife please!”Tino yelled suddenly. 

“Wh-what?” Berwald asked, confused. Was he saying that he didn’t want to be his wife? Or something else? 

“I want – I want – “Tino pulled the collar of the huge coat over his face and took a deep breath.

Berwald stopped walking, grabbing Tino’s shoulder. “What do you want?” he asked softly. 

Tino buried his nose deeper in the collar of the jacket. He shivered, but not from the cold. 

“Tino? Wife? What do you want?”

“Be your boyfriend I want not wife! Wife means that I should be a girl! Boyfriend means it’s okay to be gay! No want to be wife.” Tino hunched up his shoulders, ducking his chin next to his chest. 

Berwald picked Tino up, grabbing him with one arm around the waist and the other just under his rear. He nudged Tino’s nose out of his collar with a small smirk. 

Tino made a surprised noise, looking up at Berwald with wide, wide eyes. 

Berwald grinned. “Jag är kär i dig.” 

Tino looked confused for only a second before he was kissed passionately. He made a surprised noise before leaning into the kiss, tangling his fingers in Berwald’s short blond hair. 

Berwald laughed as Tino accidentally pushed his glasses off his nose. “Jag är kär i dig.” He repeated once more. 

“What does that mean?” Tino asked, blushing. 

“I think you know.” Berwald grinned. “You’re coming home with me.”

Tino squeaked as Berwald shifted his arms so that he was now carried bridal style. “Wh-what?”

“You heard me wife. I’m taking you home.”

“O-okay.” Tino whispered, leaning his head on Berwald’s shoulder. He was surprised to see Sweden, smiling this huge triumphant smile. 

Tino decided he liked that smile. He wanted to make Berwald smile like that more often.


	8. Say it! Say it!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tagged for:
> 
> Hetalia: Axis Powers
> 
> Relationships: 
> 
> South Italy X Spain,   
> Romano X Spain
> 
> Characters: 
> 
> Spain - Character,   
> Romano - Character
> 
> Additional Tags: 
> 
> True Love,   
> Gay,   
> tomatoes,   
> Gardens,   
> Angst with a Happy Ending,   
> Hetalia
> 
> Language: 
> 
> English

Work Text:

 

Romano stared blankly at the tomato, determined to win the staring contest he had initiated with an intimate object. He poked the red fruit sadly, dropping his head to the table. 

He sighed. The Tomato dominated him. He had just been dominated in a staring contest. By a tomato. It’s a fucking vegetable fruit thing. It doesn’t even have eyes. 

Romano sighed again. This was such a boring, despicable day. 

He needed to go garden. 

Romano stood up and walked outside, leaving his shoes off and the door open behind him. He walked around the house, and stood at the edge of his garden. He took a deep breath, savoring the deep smell of fresh dirt, tomato leaves, and fresh flowers. 

This was his place, his home. This was where he belonged. This was where he could do whatever the fuck he wanted, and no one could ever tell him otherwise. He swore to god, if anyone ever tried to trash his garden, he would tear their lungs out with a rusty spork and feed it to them with a rake. 

Romano was very protective of his plants. 

He stepped onto the soft, slightly damp dirt, and sighed deeply, finally relaxing. This was where he belonged. 

Romano walked slowly around his whole garden, gently touching the flowers. He’d reach out his hand, cupping the delicate clusters with his thin fingers, and lean forward, breathing in their scent. Then he would walk onward, eyes intent on their next prize. 

He must have spent at least an hour like this, just taking in the beauty that he had helped cultivate. This was the one thing he had that Italy didn’t. Italy couldn’t grow something to save his life. Plants practically died as soon as he touched them. It was terrifying. 

Romano had lots of rules about Italy being around his garden, all of them being variations of “Get the fuck away from my plants!”

Romano knelt down next to the roots of a dejected looking Dahlia bush. These had just been watered this afternoon. There shouldn’t be any withering or –   
Damn those disgusting weeds. Here they were, hiding under the dark fronds of a beautiful plant, sucking the freaking life out of it. It was a sin. A fucking sin. 

Romano began to carefully pull out the weeds, making sure not to disturb the roots of the Dahlia. He dugs his nails into the dark dirt, unaware that sharp spines   
form the weeds were digging into his palms. 

After every single weed had been viciously eradicated and torn into little pieces, Romano sat up, and stretched his back. Wow. He hadn’t realized he had been that tense. Ever since – 

Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. Not thinking about that. Not now. 

Romano took a deep breath, holding back the hiccupping sob that wanted to escape from his throat. He wasn’t thinking about that right now. He couldn’t take it.   
He just couldn’t.

He stood up, grabbing the shredded carnage of weed clenched in already pricked fingers. 

He scoured the garden, determined to remove any scourge of a plant that dared set its roots down in his garden. 

Romano was kneeling underneath a small apple tree, scouring the ground when he heard footseps behind him. He froze as that oh so familiar shadow stopped to his left. 

“Lovi, you’re hurting your hands.” Spain knelt down next to Romano, and tenderly tried to grab his hands.

“Get away from me.” Romano hissed, yanking his hands back. “I’m fine.” He wiped his hands on his shirt, and went back to pawing at the ground. 

“Lovino, you’re bleeding. Look at your shirt.”Spain tried to grab his hands again, more firm this time. 

“I said get away from me!” Romano yelled, jumping back and falling on his butt. “There’s weeds, okay? It’s fine!”

“Romano, there are no weeds.” Spain said softly, sitting back on his heels. “There’s nothing there.”

Romano stared blankly at the rent in the ground he had created. What. No weeds? What? “There were weeds there before.” He whispered. “I must have thrown them away.”

“Lovino, baby.”

“Don’t you dare call me baby!” Romano shrieked, voice cracking. “Not unless you mean it you two timing, dirty, rotten bastard!” 

“Wh-what?” Spain asked, sitting down cross legged on the ground. 

“You bastard!” he said, quieter. “Bastard.”

“Why am I such a bastard?” Spain asked softly, a nervous look on his face.

“You – you – “ Romano briefly wondered why he felt the deep desire to Spain he was absolutely perfect. 

No. No. He wasn’t perfect. He was hateful and mean and a traitor and he had said- he said – he – 

Romano dug the heels of his scratched hands into his eyes, forcefully pushing back the tears. He didn’t want it to hurt; he didn’t want it to be like this. He didn’t want this. Whatever Cupid that had come along and shot him in the ass deserved to die a thousand deaths for how much this hurt. 

“Lovi – “ Spain reached out, and gently pulled Romano’s hands away from his eyes. “Please let me help you get these bandaged up.” 

“No!”Romano yelled, launching himself at Spain. “No you don’t!”

Spain easily blocked the majority of Romano’s weak, ill aimed blows. He absorbed as much of the hatred as he could, hoping it would help, somehow.

“I hate you! I hate you!” Romano screamed. “You bastard! You faggot! You traitor! You liar! You thief! You stole it, and I don’t know how to get it back! You fucking whore! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

Suddenly, Romano froze, fist halfway to Spain’s face. He lurched backwards, pushing his hands frantically against the dirt in order to get away from the person he loved most. 

God, he just couldn’t bear it. Spain had said he didn’t like him. Spain had said he didn’t like him. If there was no like, then there would never be any love. Romano should have said something when he had the chance. He should have given in to Spain’s affection when it was given often. He should have let the man know that   
he liked it. 

Now he hadn’t, and it hurt so bad. Spain was all he wanted, and then he had said he didn’t like him.

Spain didn’t like him. 

Well, it made sense. There wasn’t much to like. 

Spain sat up slowly, and shook his head quickly. He looked at Romano worriedly, but didn’t reach out again. He opened his mouth to say something, but shut it quickly.”

“Say it.” Romano whispered, his entire body shaking. “Say it.”

“Say what?” Spain asked, voice hoarse.

“Say you hate me! Say it!” Romano buried his face in his arms, unable to bear the thought of Spain seeing him cry. “Say it!”

Spain was silent, though he clenched his fists. 

“I’m a terrible person! I hit you and say I hate you and I hurt you and everything else I touch! I even hurt my goddamn plants!” He gestured to the partially open roots of the apple tree he had been trying to save from ‘weeds’. 

“Say you hate me!” Romano stood up, and stomped his foot, no longer caring that tears were streaming openly down his face. “Say! Say I hate you!” 

“Why?” Spain asked quietly. 

Romano just stared at him, quaking breaths escaping from his mouth. It took four more tears for Spain to speak again. 

“I love you.” Spain whispered, face gentle, eyes passionate and intense. 

Romano sobbed, bending over and wrapping his arms around his stomach. He staggered backwards, ducking his chin against his chest. 

Spain lunged forward, pulling his little Lovi into his arms. He held him tight, cradling his head against his chest. “Shhhh.” He hushed soothingly. “I’ve gotcha.”

“You said you didn’t like me.” Romano choked, digging his nails into the palms of his hands. “You told France you didn’t like me.”

“Oh Lovi.” Spain murmured, stroking Romano’s hair gently. “Right after I said, I told him I loved you.” 

Romano moaned, sinking to the ground. “Wh-what?” 

“I love you.” Spain sat down next to him, and pulled him into his arms. He gently rubbed his shoulders, humming quietly.

Romano moaned again, burying his face in Spain’s chest. “I love you too.” He muttered, loving and hating the way that sounded. 

Spain hugged his baby tighter, burying his nose in his shoulder. 

“I – I’m sorry.” Romano sniffed. 

“That’s maybe the third time I’ve heard you say that.” Spain teased, playing with a strand of Romano’s hair. "Ever."

“Shut up! You’re not going to hear it again either you little fuck!”He coughed. “Um. I mean – “

Spain placed a finger over Romano’s lips, shushing him. “You’re not allowed to change, alright? I fell in love with you, not some pussy footing prick, as you might say.”

Romano chuckled a little, curling up smaller on Spain’s lap. “Does this mean we’re gay now?”

Spain practically giggled. “Yes, it does.”

“So I can call you a faggot and it will be true?”

“Shut up.” Spain teasingly punched him the jaw.

Romano’s bright laugh turned into a soft moan when Spain’s light punch turned into a soft kiss. 

“God, you’re good at that.” Spain whispered as he pulled away.

Romano crossed his arms and looked away angrily to hide his blush. “You fucking doms. Always being so damn pushy.”

“You know you love it.” Spain whispered, kissing him again.

“Just a little.” Romano whispered breathily. “Not that I’m going to get all moany and begging on you. I’m not that kind of person.”

Spain said nothing, only smiling a smile that reeked of a sexually repressed, overconfident dom with a Romano fetish. 

“Stop smiling like that!”Romano yelled. “It’s hot! Make it stop!”

Spain silenced him with another kiss. “You know you love me.” He whispered softly.

“I do.” Romano huffed. “I do.”


	9. Give me Back my Burger!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluff

“Put down the Burger, or I swear to God, I will shoot you in the knee!” America yelled. He stood up suddenly, knocking the plastic folding chair to the ground. 

France cackled manically, holding the highly sought McDonald’s bag of Burger Awesomeness high above his head. “Not until you suck my dick and beg for it!”

“Francis! Not in front of the children!” England shouted, holding his hands over Sealand’s ears. He whipped his head around, trying to figure out if Wy and Italy were within hearing distance of that. “You’re going to melt their brains!”

“Give me back my fucking happy meal!” America yelled again, chasing France around the yard. 

“Language!” England yelped as Sealand grinned manically. 

“You don’t sound very happy!” Hungary called, setting down a tray of hamburger buns and condiments on a picnic table. 

“Shut your whore mouth!” America moaned, gasping for breath a little. Damn did France have long legs. This wasn’t fair. France was used to defeat, and had lots   
of practice running away. 

“Don’t talk to her like that, you bitch!” Prussia jeered, steeping in front of his girlfriend. He waved wildly at the quick little Frenchman. “Pass it here!”

Hungary sighed as Prussia nearly knocked her over in his harried attempt to catch the tossed bag of cheap food. Boys. 

Prussia yelped as America nearly tackled him, missing only by a few inches. 

“England, catch!” Prussia yelled, tossing the McDonalds. 

England’s eyes widened to proportions rivaling his eyebrows. As if in slow motion, he reached up and caught the bag of food. Nearly falling backwards. 

“Don’t do this to me Iggy.” America pleaded. “We have history, man. Just give me back my burger.” 

“Iggy” grinned. “Well, there was that one time you tried to sink my fleet of ship.”

“You tried to sink mine first!”

England shrugged, smiling cockily. “Details, details.” He sarcastically tipped his imaginary hat to America, turned, and ran for it. 

“You dirty whore!” America shrieked. “Your mother was a prostitute! Not even a good prostitute!”

“That’s a low blow America. Low blow.” France wheezed, leaning against the picnic table. He tried to grab a few cookies of an unguarded tray, but Hungary swatted his hand away. 

“Don’t even get me started on you!” America snapped, nearly tripping over Sealand’s skinny legs. “You’re whole family line is – “

“Not in front of the children!” England yelled again. He scooped up a rock and threw it at America, missing by several feet. 

“Hey!” Prussia yelped, rubbing the back of his head. “Don’t throw rocks at me! I’m on your side!”

“Sorry!” 

“France, you’re whole family is just a bunch of bitches!” America shouted, seemingly to think that within the lines of what England called “good language”. 

“What did I say about language?!”England panted, running out of breath. 

“What language?” Italy asked, entering the backyard with Germany following close behind. “I know language!”

“Italy, catch!” England cheered. He threw the now crumpled bag of McDonald’s across the yard. 

Italy’s eyes widened as the bag of food sailed gracefully towards his head. He reached out his hands and closed his eyes tight in the preparation for something to   
hit him in the face. 

He jumped in surprise when the object landed easily in his hands. “I caught it!” He shrieked in surprise. “Someone threw something at me and I actually caught it!” 

He turned around and held out the bag of McDonald’s to Germany. “Look! I caught it!”

“Italy, run!” Prussia and England yelled. “Run like hell!”

“Run like hell?” Sealand repeated, a curious look on his face. 

Hungary gently swatted the back of Sealand’s head. “Don’t say that.” 

Italy’s eyes widened in horror as he saw the angry American bearing down on him with an unnatural, hungry gleam in his eyes. 

“Help! I surrender!” He shrieked again, taking off like a bullet. 

Germany sighed, and continued his trek to the picnic table. He set down a large container of food with a proud smile. “I brought Wurst!”He announced proudly. 

Hungary smiled, and patted him on the shoulder. “Good boy.” She looked around, a motherly, worried type look on her face. “Do you think we should stop them?”

Germany sighed. 

Italy was still running around the yard, America close behind. Prussia and England were yelling manically at him to throw the bag of food to someone else, but the Italian was too busy yelling about surrendering to hear them. 

“We might should intervene.” He muttered, smiling a little at the boyish antics. 

“Italy!”Sealand yelled from up a tree growing in the far corner of the yard. “Throw the bag to me! America’s no good at climbing!” 

Italy tossed the bag quickly, hardly even aiming. 

Somehow, Sealand managed to catch it, and scrambled high in the tree.

“I’m going to shoot all of you in the knee!” America announced, looking up in slight horror at the tall tree. “All of you.” 

Italy wandered back to the picnic table, little‘ve’s’ escaping between heavy breaths. 

“Did you see how fast I ran Germany?” He asked, perking up like a puppy about to be petted. “It was really fast!”

“It was.” Germany murmured, gently patting his head. “You should run like that in training more often.”

“Aru!” China announced as he, Japan, Taiwan, and Russia entered the yard. “We’re here!”

Hungary smiled to herself as America clumsily started climbing the tree. He nearly fell to the ground twice, hanging on to a branch only by his two legs. 

She looked proudly around the yard. Everyone was getting along so well. This was going to be the first casual world meeting since World War II. She hoped that no one would get into a real fight, and that everything could stay boyish and happy. The Countries needed this, after so much tension and death. They needed this. 

Poland and Lithuania sauntered into the yard, hand in hand. 

“Fabulous thing one and two are here!” Poland called, adjusting his pink sweater. 

“Why am I always thing two?” Lithuania muttered, shooting Poland a teasing bitter look. 

Germany pulled Italy under his arm, narrowly saving him from being trampled by Denmark, who was leading the Baltics straight to the alcohol. 

“No Liquor until at least eight!” Hungary yelled. 

As the Baltics booed and hissed, Canada came quietly up behind the cooler of beer and took one, grinning quietly to himself. There were perks to being invisible   
to everyone. This was one of them.

“You dirty bastard!” America hissed, halfway up the tree. “I’m going to mutilate all of you.” 

Italy buried his nose in Germany’s soft black t-shirt, breathing deeply. He liked this. He liked everyone being happy, getting in trouble together. He liked that no   
one was lonely. Even Canada was involved in conversation, with Prussia and England. 

If Canada was talking to more than one person, things were looking good for the world. 

Spain and Romano entered the yard next. Romano was tomato red and cussing Spain out in Italian. Spain was way too self satisfied, with a slightly gloating look on his face. 

Ukraine, Belarus, came next, both chattering glibly among themselves. 

Liechtenstein entered the yard tailed very closely by a certain over protective blonde Swiss person. 

“Switzerland! Let her have some space!” Ukraine yelled across the yard. “Let Canada flirt with her or something!”

Netherlands and Belgium were next, followed by Austria, Bulgaria, Romania, and Cuba. 

Soon, everyone was their talking, laughing, and insulting each other. 

Hungary climbed on top of the picnic table, and clapped her hands. “Everyone! I need your attention!”

Just as everyone was settling into relative silence, a loud scream was heard from the base of the tree.

“Canada!” America yelled, staggering to the picnic table. “Canada, you’re going to be mutilated the worst!” 

America climbed on top of the table, and held above his head a jar of maple syrup with the words “Fuck You!” Written in large red letters over the label. 

“Canada, what did you do with my Burger?” America wailed. “You’re a despicable human being!” 

In the far corner of the yard, Canada smiled to himself. Mission accomplished.


	10. I love you THIS much!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Germany (Hetalia)/North Italy (Hetalia)
> 
> Characters: 
> 
> Ludwig Beilschmidt,   
> Manny Vargas
> 
> Additional Tags: 
> 
> Cute coupleness,   
> piano playing,   
> Will you play with me?,   
> silly Feli
> 
> Language: 
> 
> English

Felicano sat backwards on the piano bench, kicking his legs happily. He looked around the room, and sighed. He glanced at his watch, and sighed again.   
It was still three more hours until Ludwig would be done working. It was just unbearable! All Feli wanted to do was be with him, maybe play with him. They could find something to do together, he was absolutely certain. If only Ludwig didn’t work so much. Seriously, the man was going to work himself to death. 

Feliciano stood up, bouncing on his toes. Maybe he could go in there and see if Ludwig wanted to take a break. Just for a little while.   
No. He couldn’t do that. That would be rude. Feli wouldn’t want to be rude to Ludwig. 

He turned around and plunked himself down on the Piano bench with an irritated huff. This was going nowhere. 

Suddenly, an idea occurred to him. Maybe he could lure Ludwig out of the office. If he acted and sounded like he was having tons of fun, then Ludwig would be reminded of how boring his work was, shirk the rest of it off, and join him! Then he wouldn’t have to be alone! It was a great plan!

Now, what to do to pretend he was having fun…. 

Well, he could start by playing a song on the piano. Pianos were always nice, and he knew that Ludwig loved music. 

He playfully tapped out the first sharp notes of a children’s song, giggling to himself. After a few bars of silence, he launched into a crazed rendition of some Bach piece he couldn’t remember the name of. 

Inside his office, Ludwig couldn’t decide if he wanted to laugh or wince. That would be just like Feli, tricking him into thinking he was going to play easy pieces, then play some complicated thing that sounded like wild horses. He was fairly certain that this was supposed to be a slow, relaxing piece, but Feli played it like a rapid concerto.

Ludwig chuckled, resuming his paperwork. Oh Feli…

Feli stopped midway through his song, already bored with that piece. He jumped into a tinkle little lullaby Elizabeta used to sing to him when he couldn’t sleep. He loved that song. He hoped that she never knew that he would stay up intentionally so she would sing to him. 

He unconsciously started singing the words softly to himself. “Night is just falling, the bunny's ears droop, The kitten's purring, Go to sleep you, little baby. Sleep, baby, sleep, Close your eyes. Sleep, ingo-bingo, little rose bud. The violet is sleeping, Sleep, baby. ”

Ludwig stifled a laugh at the rough English translation of Hungary’s classic lullaby. He kind of wanted to go out there and correct the boy, tell him he should be singing it differently. 

But his mistranslated little ditty was adorable. Really adorable. 

“Those who can't walk in step won't get strudel in the evening. For the strudel is very good, it's for the soldiers. We're not going too far, just till the fringes of the village. We won't be there too long, just for twelve hours.” 

Ludwig pressed his fingers over his mouth, eyes closed tight in an effort not to laugh out loud. That boy was fricking adorable. 

Fricking. Adorable. 

“The end!” Feli cheered triumphantly. He poked out a cheerful little chord, and stood up on the piano bench. “Ludwig!” He yelled. “Does it sound like I’m having fun yet?”

Ludwig grinned. “Yes, it does.” 

“Are you going to come have fun with me?”Feli bounced hopefully.

If Ludwig had been able to see the hopeful expression on Feli’s face, he would have said yes in a heartbeat. 

“I am working, Feli. I cannot.”

Feli drooped, stepping sadly off the bench and curling into a puddle of depression on the floor. “Oh. Okay.”

Ludwig winced. He sounded so disappointed. It was heartbreaking to hear and think about. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come out?”Feli asked again, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “We could draw pictures, or play a game, or cook pasta, or even train more if you really want to.” He got up and walked to the office door.

Ludwig buried his face in his hands. This was just too painful! He so badly wanted to make the Feli happy! So badly! But there was all this work to do, and his boss   
was going to be mad at him if he didn’t get it done. The work needed to get done…

Ludwig looked up as Feli hesitantly poked his head inside the door. 

“Please?” Feli whispered, big brown eyes wide and hopeful.

Ludwig sighed, knowing that it would be futile to resist. The poor German hadn’t realized when he gave his heart to Feli that it meant giving his self control away too. 

“Come here, Liebling.” Ludwig whispered, gesturing to his lap. 

“Yay!” Feli cheered, racing across the room and lunching himself enthusiastically into Lud’s lap. He threw his arms around his broad shoulders and planted an affectionate kiss on his cheek. 

Ludwig blushed a little. He pulled Feli into a tighter hug, burying his nose deep in Feli’s neck. He took a deep breath, enjoying the odd smell that followed the   
Italian around. A strange mix of pasta, oil paints, and the great outdoors. 

“I’m really happy you want to spend time with me! Ve!”

Ludwig laughed at the sudden recurrence of Feli’s vocal tick. It only came out when he was super excited, but it was cute as hell when it did. All the more incentive to make him excited. 

“What would you like to do, Luddy?” Feli asked, wiggling in excitement. 

“I – I don’t know.” Ludwig said, grabbing Feli by the shoulders and holding him out, giving him a long look over. 

“Are you – wiggling in excitement?” Ludwig asked, a teasing smile poking around in the corner of his mouth.

“Maybe?” Feli squeaked, suddenly beet red. He sat himself down, and clamped his hands over his knees. The determined pose of self inflicted stillness lasted only moments. Soon, he was bouncing in Ludwig’s lap again, completely unaware that he had started moving again. 

Ludwig chuckled. Feli was just so – so perfect. He was keeping him. There was no doubt about it. Feli was his and his alone, and he would never ever share. 

“I love you.” Ludwig whispered, kissing Feli on the forehead. 

“I love you more.” Feli said, grinning childishly. 

“I don’t think so.” Ludwig ran his hands through Feli’s hair. 

“Oh, yes, I do.” Feli said, climbing out of Ludwig’s lap. “I love you this much!” he cheered, stretching out his arms as far as they could go.

“Well.” Ludwig stood up, and grinned. Challenge accepted. “I love you this much.” 

Feli frowned at the visible difference in size between their arms. 

“Well,” Feli looked around the room. “I love you this much!”He pointed from his toes to the very tip of his up-stretched fingers. 

Ludwig smiled lazily. “Well, mein little Schatzi, I love you this much.” He copied the Italian’s gesture, fingertips coming within inches of the ceiling.

Feli pouted, crossing his arms and glaring at the floor. “Well, well – well I – “His face brightened. “I love you this much!” He climbed on top of Ludwig’s desk, and   
stood on his tip toes, he jumped up once, holding his hands over his head. 

Ludwig sighed. “You do know that if I climbed on that chair, I’d still be taller than you?” 

Feli’s face crumpled a little bit. He swallowed hard, and sat down on top of the desk. “Yeah, I know.”

Ludwig fumbled for something to fix it with. He hadn’t meant to break the poor guy’s heart, he was just trying to be logical. He was bigger than Italy, any which way you look at it. 

Feli sighed, clenching and unclenching his fingers.

Ludwig sat down in his chair, and scooted it forward so he could look Feli in the eye.

“Feli?”He whispered, afraid that he had made him cry.

Feli didn’t respond. 

“Sweetheart?”

Feli’s eyes snapped up. He looked at Ludwig almost – almost longingly. His thin fingers reached out a little. 

Ludwig was confused. This seemed like too sudden of a mood switch. This was too haunted of a look for such a sweet person. Too haunted, too lonely.

Feli slipped off the desk and fell into Ludwig’s lap again, burying his face in his green military uniform. He breathed in the familiar smell, relaxing a little.

“Feli?” Ludwig asked hesitantly. Had he completely broken him?

“Ludwig?”Feli sat up a little. 

“Yes liebling?” 

“Can we agree that we love each other just as much?” 

“Ja. Of course. Of course.”

Ludwig gently grabbed Feli’s chin and pulled his face up so he could see those big brown eyes he loved so much. “Feli?”

“Yes?” Feli whispered, hoping that the three small tears were invisible. 

Ludwig had some vague plan for something uplifting to say. It would lift Feli’s dejected spirit’s and fix whatever it was that he had broken. 

Instead, he just kissed him. 

Feli gasped, and jerked upright as if he had been stuck in an electrical socket.

“You – You just kissed me!”

“I did.” Ludwig smiled lazily, glad that his plan had worked. 

Feli blushed, and settled down again with a small happy noise. “Ludwig?”

“Yes?”

“Can we go outside and play?”

“Sure Feli. Whatever you want.Whatever you want...”


	11. I want to be strong like you!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: really, really graphic cuddling

Feliciano sat up in bed, drenched in sweat. He pulled the blankets over his head, curling into a tight ball. Of all the nights to try and sleep in his own bed. The one time he had a nightmare, and he was alone.

Well, this time, Feliciano would be brave. He would be strong, just like Ludwig. He wouldn’t need to go to his boyfriend’s bed. He would be strong. We would not waver, not even if – Oh God, what was that?

He jumped out of bed and ran down the hall, dragging his blanket behind him. He stopped outside Ludwig’s door. Should he go in? What if Ludwig was asleep? He hardly ever slept; what if he woke him up? Feliciano would be so guilty if he woke him up. Maybe he could just sleep on the floor next to the bed? That could work. That was the plan.

Ludwig’s eyes snapped open almost as Feliciano’s hand was on the doorknob. He remained motionless, trying to figure out who was in his room. Was this a surprise attack? Or Feliciano? There was a gun under his bed. He probably wouldn’t even need it; the Allies were so clumsy anyway.

Feliciano stood at the end of the bed. It looked to him as if Ludwig was still asleep. He desperately wanted to crawl into his arms. He wasn’t even that afraid anymore, he just wanted to know it was safe, that he was good. He pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders, resisting the urge to cry. He wasn’t going to cry like a baby. He was strong, he wouldn’t be weak. He wouldn’t.

He sniffed quietly, pressing a hand over his mouth.

Ludwig sat up immediately. “Feli? What’s wrong? Is there someone in the house? Are you hurt?”

Feliciano sat down on the floor heavily. He pushed the heels of his hands against his eyes, shoulders shaking.

“Come here, liebling.” Ludwig said softly, pulling him onto the bed. “What happened?”

“I – I had a nightmare.” Feli buried his nose in his shoulder. “Can I stay here?”

“Ja. Of course you can.”He pulled the blanket over the two of them, rubbing Feli’s back gently. “Shhh.”

Ludwig scrambled for what to say. Was he supposed to ask him about the nightmare? Make him talk about it? Say that he was completely safe? What was he supposed to do?

“I’m sorry!” Feliciano whispered.

“What for?” Ludwig brushed a strand of hair out of his eyes. “Feli?”

“I – I was going to be strong, b-but I was too s-scared.”

“Oh Schatzi.” Ludwig murmured, slipping into the German he tried so hard to hide. “Hush now. I will take care of you.”

“B-but I want to be strong like you.”

Ludwig kissed Feli on the forehead. “But you are so strong already.”

“Wh - what?”

“Who was there to make sure I was taken care of?”

Feliciano made a confused noise. He wasn’t strong at all. What was Ludwig talking about?

“Who made sure Hungary had food on the table every night?”

“Who made sure that no one would forget Liechenstien’s birthday party?”

“Who stood by me even when I pushed them away, even hurt them, so many times?”

Feli blushed.

“You did.” Ludwig kissed him gently. “You see, I’m strong here.” He pointed to his arms and head. “But you’re strong here.” He placed his hand over Feli’s heart.

“And I want to be strong like you too.”

Feliciano smiled a little. He playfully punched Ludwig on the jaw. “W-well, if you say so.”

“I do say so.” Ludwig kissed him again. “And you need your sleep.”

Feliciano curled closer. “Alright. But only if you’ll sleep with me, and stay for a long time.”

Ludwig sighed. I suppose.”

Feliciano chuckled, then yawned. “I love you, Luddy.”

“I love you too.”


	12. Moral Support Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> gerita fluff

Ludwig tried to slip out of bed without waking Feliciano. He tried to untangle the skinny boy’s arms from his own without disturbing him. If he could just get out of the bed, he’d be off scot free. He sat up slowly, trying to not make the bed creak.

“Ludwig?” Feliciano murmured, rolling so he was halfway on top of him again. “Ludwig, don’t go, its cold.”

Ludwig was going to have self control. He was going to get up, and get to work.

But Feli’s sleepy eyes and soft voice broke all his German self control. It was cute and cold and it needed him. He let Feliciano snuggle down into his arms again, slowly smoothing his hair. Feli leaned into the caress, and made a happy humming noise.

Ludwig waited until he was fast asleep before successfully climbing out of bed. He quietly got dressed and went downstairs.

Halfway through making a cup of coffee, Ludwig experienced a pang of loneliness. He wanted Feliciano in his arms, right now. But it was five am, and there was a  
lot of work to be done.

 

~~~~~~*~~~~~~

 

“Ludwig?”Feliciano mumbled, sitting up. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the room. He sighed, and rolled out of bed. He stumbled around the room, trying to remember where he had tossed his shirt. Of course Ludwig had gotten up. That was so – German. Wow, was he sleepy or what? Calling him German as an explanation of why he was so – so – German!

He gave up his search prematurely when he realized that he could borrow one of Ludwig’s shirts.

He happily pulled a crisply ironed button down out and pulled it on. He took his time tucking it in, rolling up the cuffs, making sure everything was perfect just so he could look like Ludwig.

Feliciano looked at himself proudly in the mirror. He straightened his shoulders and stood taller, imitating his lover. “Sheisse!” he said, breaking into laughter.  
“Italy, it’s time to get up! Ache de Liebe! Fold your clothes! Du liebe zeit! What? More pasta?”

Feli put his hands on his hips, looking at himself one more time. “Iche liebe dich!” He said softly, letting German accent burr on his tongue.

He sighed softly; then remembered. He was going to help Ludwig. Right. Focus.

He joyfully jumped down the stairs two at a time, excited to be awake and ready to help Ludwig with work. He made sure to grab two muffins from the kitchen on the way by, because Ludwig never fed himself.

“Luddy?” he asked, entering the workshop. “I brought you breakfast!”

Ludwig looked up, startled. “You brought me – my shirt – You’re up!” What was he doing here? In his clothes? It was adorable, no doubt, but very unexpected.  
Feliciano laughed and hugged him. “Yes, yes, and yes!” he sat down next to him. “Eat this.” He brandished the muffin with a grin. He was so happy to be able to be  
helpful. So happy.

Feli curled up under Ludwig’s arm as they ate.

Ludwig was stumped as to what to say. There was a Feli. Under his arm. He was warm. And snuggly. And cute. It was making it hard to think.

“I’m here to help you work.”Feli announced around a mouthful of crumbs.

“I don’t need help.”

“I want to.”

“I’m fine!”

“Please?” Feli pulled out the big brown baby doll eyes, looking up at Ludwig with a pleading expression.

“No.”It all his willpower just to say that one syllable. God, the things that Feli did to him.

“Can I at least offer moral support?”

“What?”

“I can give you kisses or – “ Feliciano stopped rambling when he saw the stunned expression of Ludwig’s face. “Ah – Um – Uh – never mind. I’ll just go.” He murmured, thinking that Ludwig was making that because he was disgusted. He scooted out from Ludwig’s arm and tried to escape.

“No.” Ludwig grabbed his arm. “Stay. You – “he winced. This was against everything his boss ever told him he needed to be. He was going to be in so much  
trouble. “I guess you can help a little.”

Feliciano cheered, pumping his fist. He bounced on his toes, eagerly awaiting his instructions.

“And Feli?”

“Yes?”

Ludwig grinned. “You be ready to give moral support kisses, alright?”  
Actions


	13. Do you not want me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tagged for flash backs

Prussia lay sprawled on Canada’s couch, half dressed and half awake. He made a sleepy noise, smacking his lips together. His milky white hair had obviously not been brushed in several days. His red eyes were half shut, staring vacantly at the wall.

Gilbird sighed. He had been like this all day. It was getting boring. Just because Canada was busy working all day didn’t mean he had to loaf around and act like an invalid. It was just uncalled for. There was mooning around in love, and then there was stalking. This was crossing the line.

Gilbert sat up slightly, blinking blearily. He sighed, and glanced down at his wristwatch. It was four fifty seven. Mathew would have to be home soon, right? Right?  
He flopped backwards again, closing his eyes. Mathew would be home soon. It was going to be okay. He would be here soon.

Gilbert was in a constant state of denial over how much he longed for Mathew. When he was with him, it felt like nothing could make him any happier. When he was gone, it felt like he was empty on the inside. Nothing could make that emptiness go away except hearing Mathew’s voice, or hugging him, or being with him. Even reading a text from him would make the lonely feeling go away.

Gilbert tried not to be clingy. He tried not to text too much, or call too much, or hang around his house too much. He didn’t want Mathew to think he was a creeper or anything. His most often employed excuse was that he needed to check up on his ‘little’ Canadian, and make sure he hadn’t gotten himself into trouble. To which Mathew usually replied with a flirty jab at Gilbert’s overprotective side.

“Gilbird, go get me a drink.” he waved his hand sleepily.

Gilbird rolled his eyes. That was a trick Gilbert had tried to teach him a long time ago. It had never worked, and wouldn’t start working now.

Gilbert jumped ramrod straight in the air as he heard the jangling of Mathew’s key’s in the door knob. He looked frantically around the room for his shirt. Where had he tossed that thing? He wouldn’t want to look like he was begging for sex. That would be bad, even if it was true.

Gilbird fluttered to the doorway, enthusiastically greeting Kumijiro-san and Mathew.

“Gilbert?” Mathew called, holding out his hand for the little yellow bird to land on.

Gilbird, however, ignored Mathew’s outstretched fingers, landing on Kumijiro-san’s head and nuzzling him gently. He chirped happily, glad to finally have a  
friend who would pay attention to him.

“I see where your loyalties lie.” Mathew murmured teasingly as he kicked off his boots. “Gilbert?”He called, voice suddenly getting five times more excited.

“I’m in the living room!” Gilbert called, trying to act natural. Not having been able to find his shirt, he settled for acting as normal and nonchalant as possible,  
sprawling himself again on the couch. If he was going to look like he was begging for sex, he was going to do with confidence.

Mathew jumped a little upon finding Gilbert half dressed on the couch. “Hello.” He said, unable to stop staring. Damn. That was hot.

“Hi.” Gilbert’s voice cracked just the tiniest bit. He coughed once, trying to act natural.

Mathew sat down next to him, holding Kumijiro just a little tighter. “How was your day?”

Gilbert tried to come up with something impressive and not pathetic to say. He came up empty. Wow. That was sad. Um.

“You didn’t loaf around here all day, did you?”

Gilbert shrugged sheepishly. “It smells like you here.”

Mathew chuckled, scooting a little closer. “I would expect it to.”

“How was your day?” Gilbert asked, reaching out and running his fingers over the Canadian’s blonde hair. The lack of physical touch was bothering him.

“My day was filled paperwork and a very loud Alfred.”

“You poor thing.” Gilbert cooed, pulling him into a hug.

Mathew couldn’t resist running his hands over Gilbert’s chest and shoulders. He had never seen Gilbert shirtless before. It was a very pleasant vision. He decided he liked very much the pale skin and shadows.

Gilbert took a small sharp breath, fluttering his eyelashes a little. He would not become at all turned on by such a small, insignificant touch. It would not happen.  
He wasn’t that easy. He wasn’t.

Mathew blushed, pulling away. He didn’t want to push for something. He didn’t want to hint. Even if he wanted it, he wouldn’t ask.

Gilbert groped for something to say to take away the awkward knowledge that both of them were turned on by that encounter, but neither of them was brave enough to push for anything.

“Tell me more about your day.” He gasped, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at Kumijiro-san.

“Well… I enjoyed being able to brag about you.”

“Brag about me?” Gilbert blinked, stunned. “To whom?”

“Alfred, Iggy, France a little. It was quite nice actually. They were quite happy to hear all sorts of details.” Mathew made a self satisfied little nose, grinning. “I’ve  
decided I like bragging about you.”

Gilbert pulled his arms tighter over his chest. Goosebumps prickled over his arms and he shivered, closing his eyes. Not here. Not here. Not now.

“I got to tell them about how happy and silly you are.” Mathew continued, oblivious to Gilbert’s response. “How happy I am with you. They told me I should have come out of the closet sooner. I don’t think I would have wanted to come out with anybody but you though.” He turned to Gilbert to find his boyfriend sitting curled up, with clenched fists and eyes squeezed tight shut.

“Gilbert? What’s wrong?” Mathew reached out to touch Gil’s shoulder.

Gilbert shook under his touch, curling smaller. “Why’d you tell them?” He whispered hollowly. “Why?”

“B-because I’m proud that you’re mine.” Mathew whispered. “I-is that bad?”

Gilbert stood up, and began to pace around the room. He clenched and unclenched his fists, shaking his head furiously. This couldn’t be happening again. Not again. He didn’t want the jeers again. He didn’t want the cries of fear from young children whenever he walked near. He really didn’t want them to try and drown him again. He didn’t want that. He wasn’t a spawn of Satan, he swore. He wasn’t broken, was he?

“Gilbert, what is wrong?” Mathew set aside Kumijiro, standing up. He tried to pull Gilbert into a hug, but was shrugged off.

“Why?” Gilbert repeated under his breath. “Why, why, why?”

“Did you not want people to know about us?” Mathew’s voice cracked. “Are – do – did you not want them to know about us?”

Gilbert moaned, sinking to his knees. “Mein Leibling, Ich leibe dich immer und fur immer. Ich sitte nicht - ich will – ich liebe dich! Ich nicht tun will zu krankend dich! Ich bin schlecht! Ich bin sehr schlecht. Ich bin nicht gut! Du wille sie es aufgehackt durch mir!” He started to rock back and forth, still shivering and moaning.

“Gilbert, Gil, I don’t know what you’re saying. Gil, I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

“Ich wille absats dich! Ich bin Teufel Brut! Ich bin Schlecht!”

Mathew pulled Gilbert into a tight hug, rubbing his back gently. “Gil, baby, calm down. I love you, okay? Calm down. Take a deep breath, okay? You’re hyperventilating. Gil, look at me.” He gently grabbed Gil’s face, forcing the frantic man to look him in the eye. “Breathe. I’m right here. I’m sorry. I love you. Just breathe.”

Gilbert continued to mumble fervently in German. Actually, it sounded kind of like he was praying. Or begging. Maybe both.

“Gilbert, I need English, and I need it now.” Mathew gently shook Gilbert’s shoulders, still rubbing his back. This was beyond freaky. What the hell was wrong?

“I’m sorry!” Gilbert finally gasped, burying his nose in Mathew’s shoulder and hugging him tight. “I’m sorry!”

Mathew rubbed his back more, still quiet. “Ssshhhhhh. I’ve gotcha.”He finally said.

“Tut mir Leid.” Gilbert murmured. “Tut mir Leid.”

“I’m sorry too.” Mathew finally whispered. “I didn’t realize telling people would make you so upset. I – If I had known that you didn’t want people to know about me, I wouldn’t have said anything.”

Gilbert shook his head viciously, trying to free himself from the clinging strings of past memories. “Nein. Nein, nein, nein, nein.”

“If – if you don’t – “Mathew bit his lip, holding Gilbert tighter. “Do you want me?”

“Ja! Ja! Of course I do! Tut mir leid, I let that get away from me. I am sorry!”

Gilbert started to pet Mathew’s hair, touch his shoulders, a kiss his cheek. Anything to communicate what his voice was still too shaky to say.

“Ich liebe Dich.” He finally managed, kissing Mathew on the mouth. “Ich liebe dich.”

“I – I love you too.” Mathew blushed. “If – if that’s not why you were upset then – “

Gilbert winced, holding Mathew even tighter. “It’s nothing, I overreacted.”

“Nothing? You were pacing and talking in German. You were shaking and moaning and you fell over and that is not nothing!” He gave Gil a defiant look.

Gilbert curled smaller, hiding his face in Mathew’s comforting red sweatshirt. “It was nothing.” he mumbled, hands starting to shake again.

“Moooooooose.” Mathew dew out the nickname far too long, tangling his fingers in Gil’s hair and pulling his head softly out of his chest. “Tell me.”

“I –“ Gilbert bit his lip, tucking his chin next to his chest. “I don’t want it to start again.”

“Don’t want what to start again?”Mathew asked gently.

“I – they – I’m no good.”

“I’m gonna tell you right now I will never agree with that statement, but you go ahead and defend it. Why are you no good?”

“They – I’m albino, I have red eyes, so I’m a child of Satan. I’m left handed, so the devil works through me. I didn’t die when they tried to drown me, so I’m involved in witchcraft. I tried to confess that I was a homosexual to the pope and he finally excommunicated me. He excommunicated me. I thought he could pray and fix me. But they threw rocks at me.”

“Baby.” Mathew cooed, pulling Gilbert halfway into his lap. “I’ve gotcha.”

Gilbert whimpered, going limp and sliding into a puddle on the floor.

“Baby, I love you okay?” Mathew blanket hugged him, imaging in his mind that he was shielding his beloved from words and barbs, thrown rocks and worse. “I love you. There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Gilbert moaned. “I’m fine, I’m sorry, this is nothing.” He sat up, rubbing his eyes furiously, hoping to hide two small tears that had blossomed from the corners of  
his eyes.

“This is not nothing. It may not affect your everyday, this may not be something I see every day, but it’s broken and hurting and I want to help fix it. “

“I – I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Gilbert said, rubbing his eyes again. “But thank you.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Mathew hugged him again. “It – thank you. I want to be able to help.”

Gilbert nodded, clenching his fists and taking a deep breath. “We can’t let anyone know about this. People might lose faith in my awesomeness.”

Mathew chuckled. “Well, we can’t have that happen. It doesn’t even bear thinking about.”

Gilbert sniffed one more time. “You especially can’t tell Germany, okay? He might think I’m becoming weak or something.”

Mathew nodded, pulling away a little.

“No, don’t go.” Gilbert grinned and kissed him gently. “I want that mouth where I can reach it.” he rolled the two of them over so he was on top, and grinned again.

Mathew squeaked, sitting up straight and scooting closer. “O-okay.”

Gilbert looked the Canadian over. He was just too sweet. And loving. And kind. He was too good for him. Too good.

“Du bist ein Leibling, ja?” he muttered, pushing Mathew back and kissing him again. “Ja.”

“I don’t know what you just said, but it was really hot.” Mathew said, blushing.

Gilbert grinned, self confident overly cocky side bouncing back fast from his breakdown. “You like?”

Mathew nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his head away.

“Well, there’s more where that came from.”

Mathew squeaked as he was roughly kissed again.

“I love you, okay?” Gilbert whispered.

“I love you too.”Mathew murmured, gently touching the side of Gil’s face.

“Now, about fixing this massive hard-on I have….”


	14. Gilbert, do you have Gills?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> drunk texting

Gilbert sighed, stretching out like a cat on his rumpled bed. His glazed eyes traveled blearily over the crooked posters taped to his walls. He closed his eyes in annoyance. Austria was playing the piano again. He vaguely wanted to yell at the man to shut up, but couldn’t muster the strength. He was just too tired…. After so much running and training and – God, did Ludwig have a loud voice? He smiled a little at the thought of his baby brother. No matter how much he complained, he loved Ludwig to death. He’d die for him if it came to that.

Just because he was willing to die for someone however, didn’t mean he was unwilling to be a total pain in the ass when the moment arose.

Gil chuckled, remembering the look on Ludwig’s face when he teasingly had told him he was gay. It was perfect. Completely worth it.

His phone buzzed quietly, alerting him to the fact that someone had texted him.

He sighed again. It was just too much work to pull the phone out of his pocket. Too much work. Whoever it was could just wait. He didn’t care.

Gilbert’s quiet humming of the song “I don’t care” was interrupted by another buzz from his cell. This person was persistent. It was probably Ludwig then.

The thought of Ludwig trying to text him after all that training solidified the determination not to respond.

Gilbird hopped quietly onto the frame of the bed, cocking his little yellow head at Gil. He chirped once, hoping to wake up his best friend. After all, he’d have to be asleep to ignore a text, the attention hungry little thing.

“Come here Gilbird!” Gilbert said happily, looking up at his feathered friend. “Come be lazy with me!”

Gilbird flew over the bed, and landed on Gil’s stomach, pecking his pocket impatiently.

“I know buddy, I know. It’s probably just Lud. I’ll text him back later, kay?” he gently patted the bird’s head, a soft, surprisingly loving expression on his face.

Whilst Gilbird loved the affection, he was determined to make sure his master looked at the phone. Just as he was about to peck it again, it buzzed three times in quick succession.

The bird squawked in surprise, flapping backwards and perching on Gilbert’s shoulder. He shook his ruffled feathers, hoping to disguise how startled he had been. He shot the phone one last dirty look before settling down in that perfectly shaped crook in between the collar bone and shoulder.

Gilbert sighed in annoyance as the phone buzzed one final time. “Fine Ludwig you stubborn pain in the ass! I’ll pay attention to you!”

He pulled the phone out of his pocket, careful not to disturb his little friend.

He unlocked his phone and pulled up the ‘receive messages’ icon, barely resisting the urge to cuss Ludwig out.

Gilbert’s eyes widen when he saw that all of the messages were from Mathew. He hadn’t even known that Mathew had had his number, let alone that the shy little country would have enough gall to text him six – oops, now seven – times.

His eyes widened even further as he read the messages.

“Gilbert do you have gills?”

“Like Mermaidsssssssssssssssssss”

“U could B Ariel.”

“I would B Prince Eric”

“I bet Alfred would be Ursula”

“A WHOLE NEW WORLD”

“*SPLASHY WATER SOUNDS*”

Gilbert wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry or angrily call Alfred and demand that he return poor Mathew’s phone. If this was a trick, it was an unfortunately unkind one.

If it were real though….. Canada would have to be exceedingly drunk to do something like this….. Drunk Canada could be fun…. Lots of fun….

A slow, slightly evil smile spread over Gilbert’s face.

“Birdy, my dear friend, we are going to pay a visit to my good friend Mathew….. This is gonna be good.”He chuckled somberly, uncertain at why he got a pricking feeling in his chest when he took seriously the idea of Mathew being his ‘prince charming’. It was odd. He didn’t like it.

 

~~~~*~~~~

 

Gilbert stood in front of Mathew’s house, a slightly concerned look on his face. The front door was open just a crack, and what looked like the contents of a bag of chips was spread over the front yard.

He crushed a chip under his foot, looking down at it with amusement. “Dortios. Alfred has been here, that’s for certain.”

Gilbird chirped, trying to encourage Gilbert to keep moving.

Gilbert stared at the front door only a second longer before stepping inside. “Mathew?” he called, afraid to completely startle the poor guy. If Alfred had gotten him stone drunk again, who knew what was going through his head?

“Mathew?” He yelled, louder. Now he was worried. More worried than he cared to admit. Could he have gotten injured? Maybe someone had hurt him in his  
impaired state. They could have sat on him and broken the skinny man.

“I’m – hic – in the kitchen.” A weak, slurred voice called.

Gilbert stormed down the hallway. Having halfway convinced himself that Mathew was hurt, he was surprised to find the young man seated at the kitchen table, staring despondently at an empty glass of what must have been alcohol.

“Hi Gil.” Mathew hiccupped again, smiling a little.

“Eh – Hi.” Gilbert waved, still confused. “Um…” he groped for something to say, something to disguise what must have been an obvious overreaction. “I know I am ten times more awesome and fabulous than Ariel, but is there any other reason you sent me seven texts?”

He mentally cursed himself for how his voice just barely squeaked at the end. He couldn’t let that out. He couldn’t let anyone know. Not now. Not here. Not anywhere.

Mathew blushed, gripping his empty glass with white fingers. “Francis and Alfred said you would come.”

“They – what?”

“They said it would work.” Mathew started to cry, silent tears rolling down his cheeks.

Prussia leapt forward, and knelt in front of Canada. He reached out a hand, and put it on his drunken friend’s shoulder. “What would work? Mathew, what’s wrong?”

Mathew sniffed, dragging a sleeve over his nose and sighing. He turned away, hiding his face from the albino.

“Mathew.” Gilbert said softly. “What’s wrong?”

Gilbert wasn’t entirely certain where this caring, concerned part of him came from. He only got this way around Ludwig, and even that was once every hundred  
years or so. He tightened his grip on Mathew’s shoulder, leaning closer. “Come on Buddy, what is it?”

Mathew started to cry again. “Nobody ever notices me. I actually thought for a while I didn’t exist. But then – “He turned his watery blue eyes to Prussia and gulped. “You talked to me.”

Gilbert nodded, hoping that the blush he felt in his head wasn’t on his face. He pushed away memories of his first conversation with the sweet, shy little country. He pushed away his thoughts when he first saw Mathew, really saw him. He pushed away the images of Mathew, being adorable and attractive and shy.  
He pushed all these away in a futile attempt to hide the strong blush that was creeping over his pale, awesome face.

“You - you were staring at me during our last world meeting.” Mathew whispered, staring at his hands. “You – you saw me.”

Gilbird sighed in irritation, wishing they would just admit they were gay and get it over with. Like, seriously. The tension was just too much. It had to end. If only he possessed a voice box capable of yelling at them to just kiss already.

“I did.” Gilbert said softly, moving the hand on Mathew’s shoulder down his arm. “I thought you were worth looking at.”

The sound Mathew made was halfway between a sob and a gasp. He stared openly at Gilbert, unable to process what he hoped he was hearing.

Gilbert grinned, absolutely terrified. Every molecule in his brain screamed at him to run away from this as fast as he could. It would just end badly. Just get out.  
However, every atom in heart screamed to kiss him. Just kiss him.

His heart won.

Gilbert reached forward, and pulled Mathew into a long, soft kiss. He gulped as he pulled away, hands shaking.

Please let him accept this. Prussia prayed. Please let him love me. Please don’t let him reject me. Please not again.

Gilbert closed his eyes, trying not to remember the accusing shouts he’d woken up to on the day he’d been excommunicated. They’d said he was homosexual, devil’s spawn, a spreader of sin.

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter so he couldn’t see what must be a look of disgust on Mathew’s face.

Gilbert’s eyes flew wide open as Mathew placed a small, shy kiss on his mouth.

“I – I think you’re awesome.” Mathew murmured, blushing.

Gilbert blinked, trying to process. “I think you’re more awesome.” He chuckled, voice slipping even deeper into his accent.

He pulled Mathew off the chair and halfway into his lap, kissing him again.

“Gilbert – “Mathew gasped, using his crush’s first name for the first time. “I think I might – I think I might be – I really like you.”

“I like you too, mein little awesome one.” Gilbert was surprised at how easily that came out. He thought it would be harder. In fact, it had been very pleasant to say,  
if only from the gloriously happy blushing smile he earned from Mathew.

Gilbird chirped triumphantly, hopping back and forth on his short feet. He flapped his wings, trilling happily. They had finally done it! After how many months of tension? This kiss was long overdue. LONG overdue.

Mathew gripped Gilbert’s hand, squeezing it gently. He curled up smaller, leaning his head on his shoulder. He yawned, ducking his head.

“You sleepy?” Gilbert asked softly.

“A little?” Mathew murmured, closing his eyes. “Alfred and Francis said you’d want to fuck me and that I’d have to say yes but – but if you do I want to be soberrrrrrrrrr.”

Gilbert tried to focus on the here and the now, and not that marvelous sexy body that was sitting in his lap. Mathew had just said he wasn’t ready for that. If he wasn’t ready, they would wait.

Gilbert patted Mathew’s head. “I want you to be sober too, leibling.”

Mathew yawned again, smiling.

“Eh – wait, are you falling asleep?” Gilbert asked.

Mathew’s only response was to sigh happily.

“You can’t sleep here on the floor! It’s cold! We’ve got to get you to a bed and blankets and – “ The nurturing, concerned side of him short circuited when he looked down at the peaceful countries face. He hadn’t seen Mathew look that happy before.

“Come here buddy.” Gilbert stood up carefully, dragging a limp Canadian with him.

He half carried, half dragged the barely walking Mathew back to his bedroom. He helped the man stagger into the bed, and tucked him, making sure his feet were cover too.

He stood at the edge of the bed a moment, smiling down at Mathew. “Ich liebe dich.”

Gilbert pressed his fingers over his mouth, uncertain if he should have said that so soon. They had been ‘dating’ for what, ten minutes? Good thing Mathew didn’t know German.

“Gilbert – “ Mathew whispered, reaching out a hand.

“Yes?”He knelt at the edge of the bed, looking closely for anything that could be wrong.

Mathew patted the bed next to him. “I’m drunk, so I get to be pushy!”

Gilbert laughed. He saluted teasingly, and crawled onto the bed next to Mathew. He pulled him into his arms and tried not to accidently knee or elbow him. This snuggling thing was harder than it looked.

But Mathew sighed happily, seemingly unaware of any technical difficulties the Prussian was having.

“Go to sleep, leibling. You’re going to have a massive hangover tomorrow.” Gilbert brushed a strand of blond hair of his blue eyes.

“What does leibling mean?” Mathew murmured.

Gilbert smiled. “It means darling.”

Mathew blushed, grinning a little. He opened his mouth to say something, but seemed to fall asleep before he could utter the words.

Gilbert hugged him tighter, suddenly afraid to ever let go. He sighed happily as Gilbird nestled onto his non - Mathew shoulder. “We need to get you drunk more often, kid. This was fun.”

 

~~~~~~*~~~~~~~

 

Gilbert awoke the next morning surprisingly warm and comfortable. It was weird. Usually, Austria kept the house freezing cold. But it was nice and warm and holy shit - there’s a Mathew right there.

He almost sat bolt upright, but stopped himself just in time. He tried to relax slowly, hoping to God that he hadn’t woken Mathew up. He stared down in wonder at the sleeping form of his – were they dating now? Did that make him his boyfriend?

Gilbird whistled sleepily, slightly irritated at having been jostled off his friend’s shoulder. He shot Gilbert a dirty look before returning to his snuggly little perch. Just because they had finally gotten together didn’t mean he was going to put up with being so rudely awoken.

Mathew curled smaller, wrapping his arms around Gilbert’s waist and mumbling something blearily.

Gilbert didn’t know whether or not to respond. Was Mathew sleep talking, or actually awake? It was hard to think clearly, with such an adorable thing snuggled close to him. He rubbed his back gently, smiling goofily. If Gilbird had been awake, he would have laughed.

Mathew turned his head, burying his face in Gilbert’s shirt. He took a deep breath, trying to memorize the smell, the moment.

“You awake there buddy?” Gilbert finally asked.

Mathew lifted his head, and smiled drowsily. “I think so?”

“Hangover bad?” Gilbert hesitantly reached out and ran his hands over his thick blonde hair.

Mathew turned his head, leaning into the affection. He made this funny little humming sound. “Sort of?”

“You’re purring.” Gilbert grinned. “You’re purring.” He turned to Gilbird. “Gilbird, he fucking purrs. Is that not the cutest thing ever?”

Mathew blushed. “Are we still – are you - are you still my moose?”

Gilbert blinked once, then started laughing. Really laughed, not that funny little noise he always made. Real, honest, beautiful laughter.

“Uh – I mean – I meant to say – Oh I’m sorry!” Mathew blushed more, turning his face away. He buried his nose in Gilbert’s shoulder.

Gilbert gasped, still shaking with laughter. “If, by moose you mean baby or boyfriend or leibling, then yes, I will be your moose…. But only on one condition!”

Mathew blinked, surprised. “What?”

“That I get to call you Maple leaf.”

“I think I can live with that.” Mathew mumbled, still hiding his face.

Prussia laughed again, surprised at how light and happy he felt. This was – this was going to be amazing.


End file.
